Through, Together (A Romanogers FanFiction)
by YourFriendlyNeighborhoodEm
Summary: Watching the world end is only as bad as what you stand to lose. This is a story based on the relationship and struggles of Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff during an alternate telling of the events of Infinity War and Endgame. (Please note, this is NOT a piece-by-piece recreation of the movies.)
1. Bad News

"I don't like it, Nat..."

Steve's face was a stern mask, impenetrable if it weren't for his eyes. His brow was furrowed, lips pressed into a firm line, but it was those eyes, those impossibly blue eyes, that told the truth. They were scared. They dropped from Natasha's face, down to her midsection, and back up again. Natasha instinctively placed her hand where Steve's gaze had fallen.

"I know..." she said, quietly at first, but then a little more firmly. "I know. I don't like it either, but," she gestured to the television. "What choice do we have?"

Both of their gazes moved to the image being shown on the large screen. A strange, circular and clearly-alien spacecraft was ascending back into the sky, leaving havoc where it had landed in the streets below. A message ticked by at the bottom of the screen, in all capital leaders:

IRON MAN, TONY STARK BELIEVED TO BE ON BOARD.

Nat pulled her gaze back to Steve's troubled face. "Vision's missing. Tony's... I don't even know what. Steve... we have to find out what's going on." She said, as if he needed reminding.

Vision had gone off the grid about twelve hours ago. His last known location, according to Natasha, had been Edinburgh. It hadn't been all that alarming at first, but now that it was coupled with news of an attack in New York and Tony Stark's mysterious trip to outer space, things were considerably more concerning.

Steve Rogers released a sigh that sounded every bit the age people had a hard time believing he was. He remembered the vow he had taken, to always do the right thing, even when it was the hard thing to do. To save lives, no matter what. Natasha had been by his side for three years now, helping him see to that code. Despite their differences, despite that "red in her ledger" she had been there. She could've been anywhere else, but, instead, she'd stayed. Whatever they faced, they faced together. Still, that didn't mean he didn't have concerns. Something about all this felt… big. That worried him. There was a lot more at stake here than just popping back up on the wrong people's radars.

Steve turned toward Nat and took a few steps toward her. His arms circled around her and pulled her to him. She rested her cheek against his chest; he rested his chin atop her head.

"We'll be careful." He said, and he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince, Natasha or himself.

Nat said nothing, but there was understanding in her eyes when she looked up at him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and for a second, just a second, Natasha closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel the comfort of that gesture. It wasn't often she let her walls down. In her experience, Natasha had found that bad things happened when she did that. It was habit to stay guarded. She was the Black Widow, one of the deadliest women, no, people, on the planet. She didn't need protecting. Steve knew that, but he made her feel safe, anyway, and Natasha allowed herself to feel that.

But safety, like any feeling, was fleeting. The quicker one moved away from it, the less disappointed they were when it moved away from them. It wasn't a feeling to get too comfortable with, especially not in situations like these. So, Natalia opened her eyes, patted Steve's chest, and took a step back. "Come on," she said. "We've got work to do."

...

"So, what, Iron Man's just... peacing out on Earth?!" Sam Wilson, AKA Falcon, exclaimed from the pilot seat of the Quinjet. "I mean, he better have a damn good reason for jumpin' on board that flying donut and leavin' us here to handle this mess."

"I'm sure he has his reasons," Steve said, a somewhat unlikely defender in Stark's corner. "He wouldn't have just left."

Cap's gaze moved over to Nat. He wondered what he would find there. Would it be the indignancy that Sam shared? Would it be the worry that Steve, himself, was feeling? Surprisingly, there were...neither of those things. There wasn't much of anything, really. Her gaze, her whole expression, was rather vacant. She got like that sometimes, he knew, when she crawled so deeply into that mantle of Black Widow there was scarcely room for anything else. He thought it was just years of training that did that, and, partly, it was... but now he knew better. Now, he knew that it was also a defense mechanism, because despite her strength, Natasha Romanoff had been hurt many, many times in her life. She had seen many, awful things. She got angry, and she got scared like the rest of them. This... was just her way of protecting herself, and she needed it. Tony had been just as close a friend to her as he had everyone else. If something had happened to him, Natasha would surely be affected by it.

When the jet circled around Edinburgh, everyone inside it was expecting a search. Vision had dropped off the grid, but hopefully it hadn't been long enough ago that he was too far gone by now. Nat didn't seem to think he'd be too hard to find. As one of the most advanced AI's in existence with a nearly indestructible body, Vision tended to leave certain... trails. Nothing destructive; mostly things like data interference. Vision wasn't exactly the destructive type. So, one could imagine Nat's surprise when she spotted a fire from a west-facing window, and several police cars speeding toward the scene.

"There!" She pointed out. As she did so, she saw a blur of red crash through the acropolis at the top of Calton Hill.

"Take us down, Sam." Steve said.

"You got it."

Sam directed the jet to a makeshift landing zone on top of a nearby building. The ramp at the back opened and provided an exit. Nat and Steve wasted little time in running out. After the jet was safely disengaged, Falcon came zooming behind them, the thrusters at his back lifting his winged figure high into the air.

"I've got eyes on Vision," his voice rang through the ear pieces of the others. "Looks like Wanda Maximoff is with him, too, and... oh, shit."

"What is it?" Natasha asked as she ran to the edge of the building.

Her question was answered when she skidded to a halt and saw the monstrosities on the hill before her. Two huge, bipedal but definitely alien forms towered over a fallen Vision and Scarlet Witch. They were gray-skinned, both of their tall figures clad in metallic armor. The first, female by the looks of it, had glowing red eyes and a pair of horns curving out from her temples and wrapping up along the sides of her skull. She carried a three-pronged spear with glowing blue tips that crackled with unbridled energy. The second, a male, was a bit more obscure due to the hood pulled up around his face. He carried a staff with a curved, golden blade at either end.

The female lifted her spear above her head and aimed it toward Wanda.

"Sam!" Steve yelled.

"On it!"

Falcon opened fire with two, automatic rifles. Sparks flew as the bullets ricocheted off the alien's armor. Both creatures turned, enraged, to face their offender. Steve wrapped an arm around Nat's waist and leapt off the building they were on. The earth rose up to meet him, and his legs bent as they absorbed the full impact of the fall. He released his grip as soon as it was safe, and Nat hit the ground running as she pulled two, electrically charged batons from the holsters on her back. The situation was assessed, the threats were identified, and the Black Widow had no qualms with taking them out.

While they were distracted by Falcon, Black Widow and Captain America threw themselves into the fray. Natasha jumped into the air and delivered a devastating blow with her batons to the face of the male. The one-two combo came in quick succession, knocking his head to the side first, and then bringing him down to one knee. Meanwhile, Cap lifted a flying knee of his own into the chest of the female. His enhanced strength sent her flying several yards away from Wanda and Vision. Vision, Steve now saw, was hurt. It appeared the male creature had ran him through with one end of his weapon. Steve could see yellow circuitry crackling and glitching through Vision's red exterior.

"The jet's up there," he said to Wanda, pointing to the building they'd just leaped from. "Get him to safety."

The male alien was rising to his feet once more, looking like he was ready to go round two with Natasha. He wouldn't be caught off-guard this time, and the weapon he was holding looked like it might slice right through Nat's batons. Acting quickly, Steve grabbed the three-pronged weapon that the female had dropped and tossed it to the Black Widow. A weapon that could be held in one hand by the creature had to be gripped in both of Natasha's. In one, fluid motion, she slid her batons into their holsters and freed up her hands to catch the alien weaponry. She ran toward the hooded alien, slid on her knees to duck beneath the swipe of his weapon, and sliced across the side of his knee to bring him down once more. As soon as she was behind him, she spun in a quick one-eighty and delivered another slice, this one diagonally across his back. The thing let out a terrible, pained growl and went down to his hands and knees.

The enraged female came to the aid of her accomplice. She charged toward Nat, whose back was turned toward her. She was fast, but Steve was faster. He placed himself between Nat and the beast at the last second, catching the weapon as Nat tossed it to him without a moment's hesitation and holding it up to block the attack of the horned alien. The prongs of the weapon grated noisily against the tough armor the alien wore on her forearms. Her strength had every muscle in his body firing on all cylinders, but he held her at bay.

"Left!" Natasha yelled. "Move!"

Without hesitation, Steve dove to the left. As he did so, Natasha rolled right. The spear of the male alien came swinging as he whipped himself and the weapon around in the hopes of retaliating against the Black Widow. His blade met his counterpart, instead, slicing across her midsection and spilling thick, blue blood onto the ground. By this time, Sam had landed. Now, the three of them had the two creatures surrounded. Sam had his guns trained on them, Natasha was holding her batons once more, and Steve still grasped the strange three-pronged lance that the horned female had been holding.

"Stand down." He commanded them.

"We don't want to kill you," Natasha said. Her voice was cool and predatory as she fired up the electric charge on her weapons. "But we will."

The aliens seethed up at them, showing their disgust through sharp, gritted teeth. They heaved, breathless and wounded, as they gripped one another. They exchanged glances. There was a tense moment, the kind of moment that Steve knew could go either way. Then, the female uttered something in a deep, guttural voice, in a language that no one understood. A beam of light shot down from somewhere in the sky, forcing Natasha, Steve, and Sam to jump back. The two figures were carted up into the air. The female held out her hand, and an unseen force pulled her weapon right out of Cap's hands and back into hers. They were taken up into a previously unseen spacecraft. Then, just like that, they were gone. Steve watched the stars for a moment before turning his attention to the others.

"Everyone good?" He asked. His gaze lingered on Nat.

"Yeah," Sam said. "We're good."

Natasha nodded her agreement. This seemed as easy as breathing to her. She was a cunning tactician and a lethal combatant, and whether it was fighting die-hard Hydra agents or beings from another planet, Natasha was a force to be reckoned with. Even with all the strange, foreign things occurring around her as well as within her, she was the Black Widow. Once upon a time, Steve had been afraid that nothing would ever change that. Now, he was grateful that nothing ever could.

They were all a bit breathless, but it seemed like they'd made it out relatively unscathed. She'd been working with Steve and Sam long enough now that they were able to operate smoothly and with minimal damage. Natasha just wished the same could be said for Vision and Wanda. Neither one of them looked to be in the best shape. It seemed that the two of them had made it up to safety, but there was really no way of being sure until they got there, themselves.

"We should get back to the jet." Nat suggested.

It was for the best. They needed to check on Vision and Wanda, there were plenty of questions that needed answering, and... well, no one really wanted to be around to try and explain to local law enforcement what just happened, here. So, with that in mind, the three of them headed back to the bird. Sam flew up to the rooftop rather effortlessly. Steve, with Natasha, followed by way of a couple well-placed leaps. This was as easy as breathing to him, too. They'd formed an unspoken synergy that made them come together like two parts of a whole. There was hardly any thought to it anymore. It just… happened. When they landed, he didn't release her right away. He held on to her, for just a few seconds longer, so he could look at her, really look at her, and make sure she was okay. She had to understand why.

Her smile, slightly touched, slightly amused, said she did. "Easy, Rogers." She told him with humor in her voice. "I'm not a carton of eggs. I can get shaken around a little bit without breaking."

Steve pushed out a sigh of relief, nodded, and swallowed the lump in his throat. "Sorry," he said with a little chuckle. "Still getting used to some things, I guess."

"You and me both," Natasha said. "But if you could figure out satellite radio, you can handle this."

"Hilarious," Steve said as he released his grip on Nat's waist. He watched her walk up the ramp into the jet with no shortage of awe. He'd never felt quite so afraid prior to going into missions before. There hadn't really been anything but the mission for him to see for quite some time. Even when he and Natasha had first… allowed themselves to dive a little deeper into their feelings for one another, there hadn't been much hesitation going into missions. He was Captain America. She was the Black Widow. He didn't think there was anyone or anything they couldn't handle, so long as they did it together. Things were quite different, now. There was another person in the equation. One who couldn't yet fight to protect themselves. One who, if Steve had his way, would never have to. Nat was handling it all like the true soldier though, unsurprisingly. Steve supposed the least he could do was follow her lead. He took a second to himself, smiling a little and shaking his head, before following her into the jet.

Sam had them in the air in no time.

Nat was crouched down in front of Wanda and Vision, who had both taken seats. Vision was sort of slumped in his seat, his legs splayed out in front of him, one hand gripping his side. Wanda had suffered some scuffs to the side of the face and a busted lip, but it seemed like she'd held her own pretty damn well. Still, her concern over Vision was palpable. Nat recognized and understood that concern immediately. She didn't ask questions; she didn't need to. Not those kinds of questions, anyway.

"What happened?"

"I... I-I don't know." Wanda stammered.

"What were those things?" Steve asked.

"They called themselves the 'Children of Thanos'." Vision said weakly. "They were after..." His words trailed. His hand left his wounded abdomen to touch the yellow stone in his forehead, instead. "This." He looked up at Wanda. "We must destroy it."

"No." She said firmly. It sounded like they'd had this conversation already. "No. That's not an option."

"Hey," Natasha's calm voice tried to diffuse the situation a bit. "No one's destroying anything, okay? Not yet, at least."

"Where to, Cap?" Sam's voice sounded from the pilot's seat.

There were a lot of questions surrounding what was happening. Multiple alien invasions at different points around the globe, targeted attacks against one of their own… it was a lot to take in. More importantly, Vision needed help. Steve looked at the others for a few moments, brow furrowed and arms folded across the broad expanse of his chest. It inflated as he took a deep breath in. Then, exhaling through his nose, he turned his head to look over his shoulder, up toward Sam in the front of the jet.

"I think it's about time we head home." He said.


	2. No Time for Hellos

The trip to Headquarters was... tense. Steve hadn't been there since, well, everything that had happened with Tony, Bucky, and the Sokovia Accords. He still felt a lot of regret over many of the things that had happened, but while he still had the utmost respect for the man, he hadn't talked to Tony since. That regret, that guilt, was only greater, now, knowing that Iron Man was on that ship, presumingly alone; doing what he could to protect others. It wasn't right. He shouldn't have been alone. He didn't deserve that.

The encircled "A" still stood like a beacon of hope at the top of the Headquarters building. It was a symbol of days past, Steve knew, but part of him hoped it could be a symbol of days yet to come. It would take a lot of hard work, but Steve Rogers was no stranger to hard work. Neither was Natasha.

The sight didn't mean to her quite what she knew it meant to Steve, but she could feel the regret emanating off him like heat from a furnace. She had some regrets of her own. Mostly, Natasha just regretted that all of them couldn't come to some sort of agreement. She regretted that they had been split apart. She still stood by her choice in helping Steve escape with Bucky from that airport in Germany, but she wished it had never come to that. Natasha was aware of the guilt that Steve harbored over that. Just because she had a clear conscience about it didn't mean that he did.

That was the past, though. A lot had happened since then, a lot of good, and she wouldn't change any of it for the world. So, she gave him her best attempt at a reassuring smile and then was the first to step out of the jet when it landed. She might have been a head shorter and a hundred pounds lighter than him, but Natasha Romanoff charged into situations head-on. Strong and fearless. Steve had always admired that about her. She made it easy to follow her lead, now. The others might regard him as the Captain, but even Steve needed direction sometimes. He looped one of Vision's arms over his shoulders. Sam was there to take the other. They helped him out of the jet with Wanda walking just in front of them.

Together, they entered the building and navigated familiar hallways until they found James "Rhodey" Rhodes waiting for them in a briefing room. It was large and empty, like most other rooms inside the building, but Rhodey's face was a welcome sight. He seemed happy to see them, despite jokes about the beard on Steve's face and the "age finally starting to catch up" to him. Handshakes, hugs, and claps on the back were exchanged.

"Natasha," he said, "I like the haircut."

Nat received the compliment with a slightly relieved sigh. She was pretty well-covered in tactical gear, but there was still the fear of other... differences, imperceptible as they were, being noticed. There would, no doubt, be questions, and they weren't the type that Nat felt like answering. Especially not in the face of some kind of... alien invasion.

"I know we aren't exactly strangers to stuff like this," Rhodey was saying as he lead them toward a glass table in the middle of the room. He pressed a finger to the table and illuminated a control board previously unseen. A few taps pulled up several different screens. Case files, schematics and various video feeds were laid out before them.

"Full-scale attacks on earth seem like bi-weekly occurrence anymore, but... something about this one seems different." Rhodey said.

"Different enough for Stark to hitch a ride on... whatever the hell that thing is." Sam said, motioning toward the video they'd all been watching before, at one point or another.

Steve furrowed his brow and stared intently at the footage. "What are you after, Tony..."

"Thanos."

A familiar, yet almost-forgotten, voice sounded from the other side of the room. All eyes lifted to follow the sound. A ghost stood at the far end of the table.

Bruce Banner, AKA The Incredible Hulk, AKA the guy who had been missing and presumed dead for the last two years, stood in a tattered pair of sweatpants and a hoodie two sizes too big for him. A strange swirl of emotions rose up inside Natasha. Relief, happiness, anger, disappointment... it all kept her rooted in place as an almost-forced smile pulled at the edges of her mouth.

"Bruce..."

"Hi, Nat."

It was all Steve could do to keep his gaze from flickering over to Natasha. His own face remained a stone impasse. He was happy to see his old friend, he really was, but... Steve hadn't forgotten the pain over the disappearance, the loss, of Bruce. He also hadn't forgotten the advice he'd given him, the advice that Bruce clearly hadn't heeded. And Steve most certainly hadn't forgotten the last few years spent with Natasha and the things that had stemmed from them.

But what did that matter, now?

The fate of the world could be at stake, and Captain America was... jealous?

A tense moment stretched across the room. Natasha was not one to be overwhelmed by tears of joy from some overly-elated reunion. Those hugs and handshakes that had just been exchanged with Rhodey? They were nowhere to be found, now. It was almost as if Bruce had been waiting for them, but when he realized they weren't going to happen, he cleared his throat and moved closer to the table.

"Uhm, right. So..." Bruce went on to catch the others up to speed. He informed them that he had been with Thor and Loki, on a ship full of Asgardian refugees, when Thanos and his soldiers had attacked. He was looking for what were called Infinity Stones, gems that, when combined, had the power to destroy whole universes. Thanos had arrived with one already, and from the sounds of it, he had swept through an entire race of people, two gods, and one Hulk like it was nothing to get a second stone. Nat knew what fear looked like, what it sounded like, and she could see and hear genuine terror coming out of Bruce when he retold the events. Part of her felt a little scared, too. It sounded like this Thanos guy had thrown a pretty wide net in attempt to accomplish his plan, and the thought of that much wide scale death was… Well, it was awful.

"Heimdall, he... he opened up the bifrost and sent me here, before..." Bruce raked his fingers through his hair while shaking his head. He was beginning to get a bit frenzied. Panicked. "I-I-I... I don't know what happened. Loki, Thor... why didn't Heimdall send them, too?!"

"Easy, Banner." Steve's deep voice commanded calm from the scientist. "What else do you know?"

"Thanos? The guy that sic'ed Loki on New York?" Bruce slapped his palms down on top of the table. "That's the guy! He, h-he's... he's a disease. He goes to planets and wipes out half their population like it's nothing! And that's just with two of the stones! If he gets all of six them?" Bruce stopped and started shaking his head again. He didn't finish his thought. He didn't need to. If Thanos got all six stones, there was no telling what he'd be capable of.

Nat dared a look over to Steve. He was thinking, that much was clear. Some of that worry, that doubt from before, was back. But just as soon as it started to darken behind his eyes, something else illuminated in his gaze. His blue eyes widened just a little, brows going upward.

"Vision." He said. His eyes went over to the AI in question, who had lowered himself into a seat at the table. "That's why they wanted the stone."

"Something tells me they're not just gonna give up on this thing." Nat said.

Steve nodded his agreement. "Then we better expect a fight."

"No." Vision protested, though his voice lacked any real strength. He looked up at Wanda. "We know what is at stake, now."

Steve knew what Vision was asking of Wanda, because they'd all heard him ask it on the jet. Like before, the woman's standpoint remained a firm and resounding "no". Steve couldn't blame her. He looked at Vision, a serious expression on his face.

"We'll find a way." He said. "We don't trade lives." His tone left little room for argument.

A brief silence settled over the room. Then, Bruce chimed in. "We might not have to." He said. He had that tone of voice, that look in his eye, that said he was onto something. Steve turned his attention to the man. Banner was one of the most brilliant minds that Steve had ever encountered. If he had an idea, it was worth listening to.

"There is an incredibly complex system inside you." Bruce told Vision. "Bits and pieces from Jarvis, Ultron, Tony, myself, and who knows what else are all in there. They've been learning and growing, adapting, ever since their inception. The stone kick started all that, but everything since... that's been all you." He pointed out.

"So Viz isn't reliant on the stone?" Wanda asked. She sounded cautiously hopeful.

"Not anymore." Bruce replied. "If we can safely separate it from him..."

"Then, we can destroy it." Vision finished.

"Yeah, but... we don't have that kind of technology here." Banner said. He looked down at the table, one hand on his hip, the other rubbing the top of his head. "I don't know who would."

Natasha and Steve exchanged glances. She gave a small nod, the tiniest hint of a smile forming on her face. Steve kept his expression neutral, though it was pretty hard to do so in response to a look like that.

"I know a place." He said.

"Great!" Bruce exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "What are we waiting for? Let's gather up the gang and head out!"

Again, Steve and Natasha exchanged a knowing look. Rhodey stood at the head of the table, arms folded across his chest, gaze down. Everyone else remained silent. "Bruce," Steve said, "the Avengers aren't..."

"The Avengers disbanded." Nat said with a note of bitterness to her tone.

"What?" Bruce looked between them in disbelief.

"Thor was gone," she said. "You were gone. After everything that happened, everyone just sort of... went their separate ways."

"But not you guys." Bruce noted.

"No," Steve interjected. "Not us. There was still a mission to do, and we were intent on doing it."

Whether or not Bruce had been hinting at something was unclear. But, if he had been, Steve's tone had the kind of finality to it that cut any speculation right down. They couldn't lose sight of what was important here. Bruce seemed to pick up on that.

"So, then... what now?" He asked next.

Rhodey had moved around the table to stand beside Bruce. He looped an arm behind the man's shoulders and gave him a little shake. "Now," he said, "we take a little field trip."

"A field trip…" Bruce repeated, deadpan.

"We'll go to Wakanda," Natasha said. She turned her gaze toward Wanda and Vision, and her expression softened a bit. "They'll be able to help us," she told them.

Vision seemed skeptical, but Wanda wasn't asking questions. She nodded and squeezed Vision's hand.

"We'll leave as soon as you're well enough to travel." Steve said.

"I'm well enough now," Vision insisted. "We can't waste anymore time."

There was determination in his voice and on his face. Steve didn't see any sense in trying to argue with it. Besides, Vision was probably right. The quicker they could get that stone out of his head, the quicker they could destroy it. That would, hopefully, bring them one step closer to ending this whole, mad quest that Thanos was on.

It wasn't much longer until they were heading out once again. Sam and Rhodey were helping Vision back into the jet, with Bruce and Wanda close behind. Steve and Natasha brought up the rear, standing a few feet back.

"You alright?" Steve asked.

Natasha had known that question was coming since the second Bruce stepped into the conference room. She glanced over at Steve. There was a thinly veiled attempt at downplaying his concerned curiosity.

"I'm fine," she told him. She looked forward again. "I almost forgot how many years it's been." The disappointment had subsided over the years and helped open her eyes to what really mattered. Who really mattered. It was water under the bridge now. In reality, it was probably Natasha who should've been issuing some apologies. It had been under the direction of Nick Fury that she get closer to Bruce. He was an unstable variable on the team, and they needed to figure out some way to keep him under control. Natasha had seemed like the best way to accomplish that. Of course, she hadn't told anyone that, not even Steve. She looked over at Steve, now, and offered a small smile.

"I'm just glad he's okay." She said.

That was definitely something he could agree with. Steve nodded a couple of times. "I am, too."

After that, they stepped into the jet and prepared for takeoff.


	3. Warm Wakandan Welcome

Natasha occupied a seat near the back of the jet. The noisy turbine helped to drown out some of the noise from the others. It aided in the sense of isolation she was trying to achieve. Just for a second, she told herself. She needed to pull away and just... be. Nat hadn't gotten much rest before they left HQ. No one had. Still, that didn't make her any less tired. She was no stranger to demanding missions, but these last few days had been a lot. The grand scheme of things was finally revealed. The real threat being posed was... bigger than anything Natasha had come up against before. She was used to things like bringing down toxic, underground rebel regimes. She could save a city or two. Hell, she could even save the world, but the universe? One half of every life form out there was threatened by this "Thanos" and his mission. That was a pretty big pill to swallow.

Natasha just wished she wasn't so damn tired.

"Natasha." Wanda's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Are you alright?"

Nat looked up to the auburn-haired woman and offered a little smile. She wondered how much Wanda knew. Her powers tended to give her more insight than most people typically had. In a way, Natasha wished that Wanda did know about the tiny seedling of life growing inside of her. It would have been somewhat of a comfort. Wanda had become like a sister to Natasha. Steve, too. She would've been a welcome help with… all of this. But everything was still so new, and with no guarantee that any of it would last, Natasha and Steve had decided to keep quiet about it.

"Yeah," Natasha said, "just needed to get away from all that... science talk." She hooked a thumb over toward Banner, who had been spitballing ideas and theories to Vision the whole jet ride.

"Yeah..." Wanda glanced over to them. She shook her head once and returned her eyes to Nat. "Look, I... just wanted to say sorry. For going dark. We just... wanted a little time, you know?"

I know. Nat thought. Believe me, I know. "It's okay. I'm just glad we found you in time."

"Right." Wanda took a deep breath. "I also wanted to say thanks. For that and... for helping find another way."

"Of course." Black Widow replied. "We'll do whatever we can."

"I know you will." Wanda replied with a great deal of certainty. She reached out a hand, prompting Natasha to reach up and take it. Both females squeezed the wrist of the other in a show of gratitude, respect, and solidarity. They held gazes, and in that moment, Natasha felt a little flutter at her core. There seemed to be a sense of knowing in the woman's gaze that brought a certain sense of peace. Wanda held onto the gesture for a few seconds longer before releasing her hold and walking back to sit with Vision and Banner.

Natasha had followed Scarlet Witch with her eyes and now caught sight of Steve standing by Sam in the pilot's chair. He was looking back with some question; some concern on his handsome face. That look always pulled at Nat, like it was attached to some invisible strings tethered to her chest. She felt a bit guilty for it, at times, like she regretted making someone care for her the way Steve Rogers did. She still didn't think she deserved it most times. She didn't think she deserved him, but Steve saw something in her that no one else did. He saw the goodness in her, and he brought it out like no one else could. Nat smiled warmly over to him. He returned the expression.

Eventually, Steve was giving Sam the coordinates needed to pass into their destination. Below them, endless green spread out in every direction. Trees, hills, grasslands; an entire landscape of healthy, thriving earth stood as tall and as proud as its inhabitants. Amidst the green stood beautiful buildings crafted from brilliant minds and advanced technology. The Kingdom of Wakanda was an incredible sight to behold, no matter how many times one laid eyes on it. And, of course, it was well-protected. Those instructions that Steve gave Sam? They were very precise (and very classified) coordinates given to enable trusted entities to pass through the small port of entry through an otherwise completely guarded nation. A dome-like forcefield encapsulated Wakanda, keeping it safe from threats both on the ground and in the air. The shell, like so many other things in Wakanda, was a result of the Vibranium-enhanced technology that was the nation's top resource. Any unsanctioned entities trying to pass through that shell were rewarded with a swift and fiery demise.

Thankfully, Cap's instructions worked just fine, and the jet was able to safely pass through the barrier and into Wakandan airspace. There was no shortage of sighs of relief from Sam, but Steve, per usual, was cool-headed. After all, this wasn't his first trip. It probably wouldn't be his last, either. He pulled his eyes away from the front-facing windows when Natasha joined him on the other side of Sam's chair. Like him, Nat had been to Wakanda before. In fact, all of their visits here had been together. The small sea of people waiting for them near the landing space was a welcome sight for those who had seen it before, but Steve could understand why some of the others might feel a bit wary.

Wakanda's leader, T'Challa, the proud holder of the Black Panther mantle, was surrounded by his loyal, lethal kingsguard, the Dora Milaje. The all-female group of exceptional warriors were garbed in deep red. The sun glistened off the tips of their spears as well as their shaved heads. In all his years, Steve had never seen an army quite so disciplined, quite so formidable, as the Dora Milaje. He glanced over his shoulder to gauge the reactions of the others and couldn't help but grin as some of the slack-jawed expressions he saw. His eyes moved to Natasha last. There was nothing but respect and appreciation in her green gaze. She had confessed, on more than one occasion, her feelings about the warriors. Unsurprisingly, Nat was very much a supporter of the Dora Milaje. They were lethal and beautiful, just like her.

Also standing among the group of Wakandans was Steve's oldest friend. James Buchanan Barnes, "Bucky" stuck out like a sore thumb among the brown-skinned natives of the country. Steve couldn't put into words how relieved he was to see his friend up and around again.

The jet landed a safe distance away from the crowd awaiting them. When the thrusters were fully disengaged and shut down, Sam dropped the loading ramp. He joined Wanda in helping Vision to his feet. Steve and Natasha led the way off the jet, with Sam, Wanda and Vision behind them, and Rhodey bringing up the rear with Bruce. Rhodey had been to the nation before. Natasha couldn't help but grin at the "advice" she heard him giving Bruce.

"Should I bow?" Banner asked.

"Well, yeah." Rhodey replied, doing his best to mask the sarcasm in his voice. "He's royalty, man."

Thankfully, Rhodey stopped Bruce before he could go and make a fool of himself by actually bowing.

"My friends," T'Challa stepped forward to greet them. "It is good to see you." He extended a hand, which Steve gripped firmly. Natasha followed suit and then delivered a nod of greeting to the tall, chocolate-skinned woman standing beside T'Challa.

Okoye was general of the Dora Milaje and head of Wakanda's armed and intel forces. She was tall, fierce, beautiful, and undyingly loyal to her king and country. Natasha had seen her in action a time or two, and she could safely say that Okoye's fire was unrivaled. She was an excellent ally to have, and a terrible enemy to behold. Nat was glad she could consider the woman the former of those two options.

"Thank you for having us on such short notice." Steve was telling T'Challa. "We figured if anyone could help us, it'd be you."

T'Challa released a warm laugh. "Well, I do not know if it is my help you need as much as Shuri's. Either way, we are glad to be of assistance. Come. My sister is waiting."

T'Challa turned, motioning toward the building behind him with one hand. As he did so, the group of Dora Milaje behind him parted down the middle, one half moving left, the other right. T'Challa led the way back, with Okoye beside him. Natasha and Steve fell in behind them, and the rest of the group followed suit. When they were all together, the Dora Milaje closed in, surrounding them on all sides for something as simple as the walk back inside the building. Seemingly unnecessary, but both Nat and Steve knew that nothing the Dora Milaje did was without purpose.

As they walked, Steve and Bucky had their long overdue reunion. Bucky had been a guest of Wakanda for some time, now. They'd helped him get his mind back after Hydra had hijacked it for militaristic purposes, and they'd constructed him a new arm to replace the one that had been lost so many years ago. The friends traded witty banter and grins that made Natasha think they were just kids again. It brought a smile to her face. Steve didn't get to let his guard down too often. It was nice to see him able to do that, now, even if it was just for a few minutes.

Once inside, introductions were made. T'Challa was a warm and kind man, and he welcomed the others with smiles and grace. He was a strong, wise, and good king. Steve held great respect for the man. Young as he was, he had been through a lot, and he had proven himself to be more than capable of the burdens he carried. His powers as the Black Panther were rivaled only by his prowess as King of Wakanda. He was a great ally. Of course, the Wakandan technology was a nice added bonus of that alliance. It had helped Bucky find peace, and then strength. It had helped Steve and Natasha in ways they could never repay, and now, it would hopefully help Vision.

"I have... so many questions." Banner remarked as he took in his surroundings.

"Well," T'Challa said with a chuckle, "I think you should save them for my sister."

The group was lead up a winding hallway that allowed them to climb the spire-like structure of the building's north end. The Dora Milaje had dissipated by this point, leaving only Okoye to accompany T'Challa. It was hard to count "floors" with the winding style of the building, but they stopped somewhere about halfway up to pass through a set of doors that branched off to a leveled-off wing of the building. A west-facing wall made completely of reinforced glass overlooked the huge expanse of the hill leading down to the edge of the treeline. Inside, a lab filled to the brim with Wakandan technology hummed, whirred, chirped and blinked all around them. There were prototypes of different Black Panther suits, spears and other forms of weaponry for the military forces, and some things that words couldn't even begin to describe.

And that mastermind behind it all?

T'Challa's little sister, Shuri, Princess of Wakanda. The nineteen year old genius whose tongue was as sharp as her mind. She was a petite thing, with braided hair neatly piled atop her head and a smile that could only be described as cheeky. She was known for pranking and incessantly teasing her brother, but she always came through in times of need. What's more, she had contributed to pretty much every technological advancement Wakanda had seen for the last four years. As mischievous as she could be, however, Shuri was just as kind as her brother. She had particularly warm welcomes for Natasha and Steve.

"And how are... things?" She asked as she embraced Nat.

"Well, we've got an intergalactic tyrant breathing down our necks with ideas of global extinction, but..." Nat pulled back and held Shuri at arm's length, a grin on her face. "All things considered…" she glanced down toward her stomach, "I'd say we're doing just fine."

Shuri's smile widened, very briefly, before she was clearing her throat and stepping away from Natasha. She gave a little elbow nudge and a cheeky, "Captain" to Steve as she passed by, something he was physically unaffected by, but caused him to grin, nonetheless. He watched the princess approach Vision, whom she observed with a very keen eye and a much more serious expression. There was a bracelet on her right wrist, which she pressed one bead of and activated some sort of scanning device. It registered Vision, from head to toe, in just a few seconds.

"This is unlike anything I've ever seen before." She remarked. "There are trillions of neurons, here. The framework is... very complex."

"Can you do it? Can you take it out?" Wanda asked. Shuri had been informed of the situation while the group was en route. She seemed to be completely ready for them by the time they arrived.

"Yes," Shuri answered, and everyone seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. "But it will take time. One wrong sequence and his whole system could collapse."

"We'll help however we can." Bruce said.

The first manner of business was getting Vision up on a table. It was similar to what one might see in an operating room, but there was none of the invasive equipment to accompany it. Rather, there were many sensors and devices that used incredibly small lasers to heat and cut. It seemed more like something one might see in one of Tony Stark's workshops than in any hospital. More for machinery than man, though Vision had proven to be a very ample mix of both. Once he was situated, Shuri began running some preliminary diagnostics. Under the assumption that they would only be getting in her way, the group decided to give her some space, save for Banner. If anyone could be of any use to Shuri, it would be him.

When everyone was gathered elsewhere in the room, they brought T'Challa up to speed on anything that had happened since they last spoke. He was aware of the situation at hand, and of the fact that it was very unlikely that they had seen the last of those things that called themselves "Children of Thanos". The Wakandan King informed them that they would have the full military support of the other tribes. There were a lot of unknown variables, questions that would likely go unanswered for some time, but they would be as ready as they possibly could for whatever might come next.

This was it. This was the banding together, the camaraderie, that Steve had missed since the falling out of the Avengers. Groups of incredible people, combining forces to fight the good fight. This was important. He knew that if they stood any chance at pushing back the threat that was coming for them, it was together. He looked down as he felt the black star emblazoned across his chest swell with something: Hope. All they had to do was separate that stone from Vision, destroy it, and then Thanos would be one step further from accomplishing his goal.

"My King." Okoye's voice sounded troubled. She approached him, her palm upturned, so she could cast a projected image from a bead in her bracelet into her hand. An image of Wakanda's defense shield hovered in blue light. Above it, some falling objects. "Something is approaching," she said, "and fast."

All eyes turned to the window.

Far above them, gray figures began to appear in the sky. They plummeted down like falling stars, complete with fiery tales and all. As they got closer, they appeared to be some sort of wedge-shaped aircrafts that acted more as pods than anything else. They seemed to have detached from something else, something much further up, that had been carrying them. Natasha held her breath as the first structure hit the top of the dome.

The sound of the explosion was muted, but flames and thick, black smoke could clearly be seen as the shield obliterated the craft on contact. Two more fell at different locations on the shield and suffered the same result. However, several more were landing outside of the shield's reach. In the forest, the streams; wherever they hit, the crafts created tremors in the earth that kicked up clouds of dirt and stone.

"Two heat signatures are moving toward the northern quadrant." Okoye announced.

"It's too late!" Vision yelled from the table. "Wanda-"

"Hold still!" Shuri scolded. "We are almost there."

"How much time do you need?" Nat asked the girl.

Shuri pressed her lips into a firm line and shook her head a couple of times. "As much as you can give me."

"Then that's we'll do." Steve said.

"You heard the Captain!" Sam told them with a little too much excitement. "Let's see what we can do!"

T'Challa, Okoye, Sam, Rhodey, Bucky, Nat and Steve headed for the doors.

"Brother!" Shuri called out as they were moving. "Open that case, there."

T'Challa did as instructed, pausing by a large metal box on a table he'd been passing by. Opening the box revealed a dark gray, Vibranium shield. Grinning, he lifted it from the case and tossed it toward Steve. "Captain!" He said as he did so. "I believe this is for you!"

Steve caught the shield easily. It was much smaller than the one issued to him all those years ago, but the jagged, almost teeth-like edging at the bottom said it was just as dangerous as his old one. Maybe even more so. There was a strap on the inside that allowed him to secure it to his forearm. It felt good. It felt right. Steve had almost forgotten how unnatural he'd felt without his shield at first. Hopefully, this one would stand up to whatever they were about to face outside. Something told him it wasn't going to be an easy fight.

Steve and Natasha brought up the rear of the group, making them the last out in the hall. As the others disappeared around the corner, Steve took a hold of Natasha's wrist and pulled her to a stop. His heart was pounding hard in his chest. He could hear it in his head. It was so loud he could hardly hear anything else. Steve took a few deep breaths and looked down at Natasha.

"Maybe you-"

"Steve," Nat said, warning in her tone. She held his gaze, though hers did flicker a bit. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't nervous, but she knew what he was going to say. And it wasn't even a choice. Not to her, anyway. She reached across her body and gripped Steve's arm with her opposite hand.

"Natasha, please." His voice was quiet, but no less firm. "There are some things I'm just not willing to sacrifice."

Those words, the heartbreak behind them, were like a blow to the chest. Natasha was pained to see the wavering hesitation in Steve's eyes; the way it pulled his brows and his lips downward. Her green hues moved back and forth between his brilliant blues. Time was precious, and it was fleeting. They didn't have much of it.

"If we don't go out there, if we don't all go out there," she reminded him, "then it won't matter." She stepped a little closer to him. "I'm scared, too," Natasha said quietly. "But I trust myself. To know what I'm capable of, and what I'm not capable of losing." She let that sink in for a moment. Her eyes started to sting a little bit as they looked for, waited for, Steve's understanding. "I trust myself to make the right calls. I need you to trust me, too."

Steve held her gaze for a few, silent moments. His lips were pressed together in a firm line, but then he released a heavy breath that parted them. "I trust you," he told her. "Of course I trust you."

Natasha forced her way into Steve's chest, wrapping her arms tightly around him for a second. "Good. Besides," she said quietly, "you said it yourself. We don't trade lives."

Steve closed his eyes and let that mallet hit him in the chest. By his own words, no one life was more or less important than another. Still, if someone held a gun to his head and forced him to reveal the truth, Steve knew he would paint himself to be one, big hypocrite. He huffed a breath of air out of his nose and shook his head.

"You're not gonna let me live that one down, are you?" He craned his neck so he could look down at Nat, who was now looking up at him. Her lips were pressed into a tight, half-smile. She shook her head once.

"Nope."

Steve nodded. There was a flicker of worry on his face that was pretty quickly replaced with a serious expression. "I love you," he reminded her.

"I know." She replied.

Together, they ran out to join the others.


	4. We Fight

A sea, an army, of Wakandans was spread across the open field. Each tribe echoed the Wakandan war cry initiated by their king. Hundreds of spears thudded against the ground in unison with a hundred more swords beating against shields. Steve and Natasha stood beside T'Challa at the head of the masses. The Wakandan king was garbed in his Black Panther suit, save for his head. He had been rallying his people, no doubt to keep them from fear as they watched thousands of creatures pour out from the alien spacecrafts that had landed outside the dome. With them, on the front line, was Bucky. A short distance behind them, Bruce was standing in the huge, Hulkbuster suit that Tony had made years ago in the event that the green guy got out of control. It was slightly ironic that Banner would be using it himself as a result of the green guy's inability to show up after Thanos delivered a world-class beating to him in space. The suit might not have been ideal, but it was better than nothing.

Minutes ago, Nat and Steve had accompanied T'Challa to the edge of the border. The horned, female alien from Edinburgh was there. Her previous companion was not. This time, standing beside her was a huge creature that looked like some mix between reptile and rock. Any chance at peaceful negotiations seemed practically non-existent. No one truly expected them to amount to anything, at least Nat didn't, but she knew that there were certain customs that had to be respected, here. If there was a way to avoid bloodshed, she knew that T'Challa would at least attempt it. Steve, too. Unfortunately, things went about as well planned. Thanos's "Children" wanted the stone. Steve wasn't giving it up, and it wasn't like these things were just going to pick up and head home, so... they got ready for a fight.

A single signal from the horned female released the airlocks on countless doors on the towering spacecrafts. The creatures that came spilling out after were frenzied, mindless things. They came in swarms and rushed the dome, throwing themselves at it only to be burned and seared apart by the protective barrier. Even seeing the charred and dismembered bodies of their kin, the creatures kept coming. They smacked into the dome like a snarling, writhing wall. It seemed they were made for only one thing: killing. Nothing else, not even their own lives, mattered. Everyone watched in horror as they continued throwing themselves to their deaths. There was no thought, no strategy behind it. It was as if they were led by a relentless, blind hunger. Like dogs that had been kept, starving, in cages for too long.

"Cap," Rhodey's voice sounded in Steve's comm device. "They're starting to flank the wall."

"If they surround the city, there's no way we'll be able to keep them from getting to Vision." Sam added. Sam was accompanying Rhodey and his War Machine suit, providing aerial coverage.

The message was received by T'Challa as well, as they were all outfitted with the earpieces that allowed them to hear each other. The only way to maintain the horde was to bottleneck them in the front; allow them only one way in. That meant opening a portion of the barrier. It was a difficult decision that T'Challa had to make. In order to protect his land, he had to allow the enemy into it. He sent word to Shuri through their comm system, telling her to open the northern quadrant. After a moment's hesitation, the Princess abided. Steve cast a glance to his right, where Natasha stood at the ready. Her batons were gripped firmly in hand, and a look of hard determination was worn on her face. It was an expression that was quickly mirrored by Steve. He took one, deep, cleansing breath and exhaled slowly.

"Wakanda forever!" T'Challa shouted.

Then, everything was thrown into chaos.

The Wakandan forces and their allies rushed forward, just as a small sector of the barrier opened. The alien creatures spilled in, and soon, it was like two, massive waves crashing into each other with all of their might. Steve was at the forefront of the group, alongside T'Challa. He leaped into the air and landed himself in the middle of the swarm. He brought the teeth of his shield down angrily into the creature he landed on while swinging his opposite arm to clothesline another nearby. This started the quick succession of blows that chopped and broke through half a dozen seething, biting anomalies.

Whatever triumph Steve might have been feeling was short lived, as one of the creatures smacked into him from the side and sent him rolling several yards across the field. When he came to a stop on his back, he put his shield up instinctively to guard against the teeth of an alien that had pounced on top of him. Another made a grab for his leg and was rewarded with a firm boot to the face that crunched bone and teeth alike. Steve delivered a hard right with his shield to knock another one off of him. He knew he needed to get up. Laying on the ground, he was easy prey. The things swarmed like a cloud of piranhas, constantly biting and clawing at whatever they could find. Alone, they weren't much, but their strength in numbers was undeniable.

But this wasn't the first time Steve Rogers had found himself in an underdog situation. If there was anything he'd learned in his long life, it was that the only person who told him when he was done fighting, was himself. And Captain America was far from done fighting.

Two of the creatures were on him, now. Steve grabbed each one by the neck and overpowered the strength of their writhing bodies to bring their heads crashing together. They were dazed enough after that to be thrown to either side of him and allow Steve the time and space he needed to get up. He pushed himself to a stand and immediately jumped on the nearest of the two monsters he had downed. He brought the end of his shield crashing down into its face once, twice; three times, until it was nothing more than an unmoving pile of purple mush.

A sharp pain exploded in Steve's back. Fire rushed all the way down his arm and into his fingertips as he felt the teeth of one of the creatures sink into his shoulder. He was knocked back onto the ground, this time face first. He had just barely caught a glimpse of the Black Panther in a similar situation before he was completely swarmed by the creatures. Within seconds, all Steve could see were slashing claws and chomping teeth.

...

Natasha, unable to move with the speed that Cap or Black Panther could achieve, had gotten separated from them some time ago. She was back a ways, smack dab in the middle of countless bodies, both human and alien, locked in ruthless battle with one another. The Dora Milaje and warriors from the White Gorilla Tribe were using their battle prowess and weapons enhanced by Wakandan technology to tear through their enemies. Somehow, Nat had managed to stay relatively close to Okoye during the fight. Together, they were holding their own against the relentless, bloodthirsty creatures before them.

The electrically-charged batons that Nat carried could be connected to form one, long staff that was just as lethal as the separated weapons. She used it to provide herself a longer reach to keep the creatures at bay. It was also used as a means to vault herself up, over, or straight onto small groups of the things. Speed and agility were in Natasha's favor, here. She would run and roll under the oncoming attack of a creature, or launch herself up in the air to land on its shoulders and drive the end of her weapon down into its head. She found that electric shocks down the gullet worked wonders in bringing the things down.

Nat had just backflipped off the electrocuted corpse of a creature when she felt the ground start to shake. She and Okoye paused, both women looking off in the direction of the disturbance. Outside of the dome, the ground bubbled and trees started to fall in every direction. Natasha watched in horror as whatever was digging beneath the ground outside of the dome made its way inside. Once in, the ground gave way, sending dirt, rock, and bodies flying. Several disk-shaped structures outfitted with bladed edges broke the surface and started rolling across the earth; careening toward the masses. They cut through friend and foe alike in their straightforward path headed right for the tower. War Machine and Falcon flew in to try and take the machines out by shooting their sides, but it didn't seem their firepower was enough to stop them. At least not in any quick manner. It took thirty seconds of constant fire to blow one engine and bring a disk toppling to the ground. But there were still more. Natasha's eyes widened when she realized that two of the things were headed straight for her.

Move, Natasha! She thought to herself. Move!

But she knew it was no use. She could run, but the machines were faster. She could dive to the side, but they were too large. There was no way out. She stood her ground and desperately tried to think of the best course of action. Suddenly, a red energy encompassed both of the disks and lifted them, still spinning, into the air. Natasha spun around to see Wanda standing several yards away, using her abilities to haul the machines up off the ground. She made a pulling motion with her hands that turned the machines onto their sides and sent them flying off in opposite directions. Each one skidded several yards, carving trenches in the dirt and taking out countless foes with them. When they came to a stop, they were rendered useless.

Nat made a mental note to buy Wanda a drink... or five. Considering they all made it out of this alive, of course.

That thought was cut short when the Black Widow turned to take another look at her savior. She saw Wanda taken out by the horned alien from before. She knocked Scarlet Witch mercilessly into one of the trenches that had been dug by the machines Wanda had sent flying. Wanda's attacker was quick to follow her into the trench. Not about to let a favor go unrepaid, Natasha sprinted toward the trench. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Okoye doing the same.

Nat jumped off the edge of the trench and down into it, placing herself between Wanda and the gray-skinned alien. She immediately lashed out with her batons, still attached, to deliver a hard blow to the alien's midsection. Okoye jumped in from the left and stabbed with her spear. The alien backpedaled to avoid that attack, and then swung her own weapon to parry another of Natasha's. She spun her weapon around again and hit Okoye with the handle. It hit the general hard in the gut and knocked her into the dirt wall a few feet beside her. Her back smacked hard against earth, and then she crumpled to the ground.

Black Widow ran at the horned female once more. She ducked beneath her weapon with a well-timed backbend, then flipped her legs up and over to backflip back up to her feet. Two, quick blows with her baton were delivered, followed by a kick to the side of the alien's leg. Nat wasn't sure how the creature's joints worked, but she hoped a blow to the knee would buckle her. It did, but it also pissed her off. The alien dove forward and tackled Natasha to the ground. Nat unattached her batons and crossed them in an X in front of her at the last second so she could push back against the creature's weapon that was currently being driven toward her throat. The alien was strong. Nat could feel her muscles giving way beneath that overpowering strength. She gritted her teeth and put everything she had into her arms, grunting loudly as she fought to stay alive. Her whole body started to shake.

Suddenly, the weight was gone.

The otherworldly warrior was carried into the air via a familiar red energy and sent straight into the blades of one of those giant disks passing by. Natasha barely had time to shield her face against the blue blood that rained down over her. She could feel the warm, thick ichor splatter her cheek and forehead. It was... less than pleasant, but she was too thankful to be alive to be disgusted. Wanda was soon standing over her and offering a hand. Natasha took it and pulled herself to her feet.

"Thanks. I," she paused and turned her head to spit some blue blood off her lips, "owe you one."

After she was up, Natasha moved to help Okoye to her feet. The general was winded, but she was far from done fighting. That was good, because from the sounds of things, the fight was far from over. Together, Nat, Okoye and Wanda climbed out of the trench and back onto the battlefield. They climbed to the surface and stood up just in time to see a thick bolt of lightning streak down from the sky and explode in the middle of a group of the alien creatures.

"What the hell was that?" Okoye asked in disbelief.

"That," Natasha grinned, "is reinforcements."


	5. Beginning of the End

Captain America found himself in an... unfortunate... situation. He was weighed down, drowning in a swarm of those growling, biting... things. It wasn't looking too good. It wasn't feeling too good, either. One of them had torn into his bicep, another had been clawing incessantly at his chest. Steve had barely managed to keep that one at bay with his shield, but it came at the cost of leaving himself vulnerable elsewhere. All he could see, hear; all he could smell were these things. He was starting to think that he might not have a way out of this one.

No sooner did he feel the walls start closing in around him did they suddenly lift. The event came with a loud explosion, an intense heat, and the smell of burning flesh. The bodies that didn't explode quickly became charred, lifeless corpses that were easily scattered away from Steve. After taking a moment to get over the surprise and confusion, Steve lifted his gaze to see the source of the sudden phenomena. Cap couldn't quite believe his eyes. Standing in the field, about ten yards away, was Thor. At least, Steve was pretty sure it was Thor. The Asgardian was no longer sporting his long locks, and he was carrying a large axe with a long wooden handle, but the lightning crackling around his rigid form and the smirk on his face were all-too-familiar. Steve rose to his feet with a grin on his face.

"Nice of you to join the party!" He called over to Thor.

"You have a very strange sense of the word 'party', Captain!" Thor bellowed back as he buried his ax in the head of a nearby creature.

Steve held out an arm and delivered a clothesline to an alien that was rushing him. He shook his head a few times, still wearing that grin, despite himself. Having Thor on the battlefield was a morale boost that Steve had very much needed. And the god of thunder wasn't alone. It seemed he'd brought with him a gun-toting raccoon and a... tree? Given the kind of day he'd been having, Steve wasn't all that surprised.

"These are my friends!" Thor yelled. He took the time to introduce them as "Rabbit" and "Tree". Asgardian etiquette at its finest. "Tree", Steve saw, was elongating one of its branches and spearing three or four of the alien creatures at once with a triumphant yell. The rabbit, who wasn't a rabbit at all, but rather a gun-toting raccoon in tiny tactical gear, was emptying a magazine into the masses. Steve watched Thor fly off into a horde of aliens before going back to work on thinning out the masses, himself. With the help of Thor and his companions, it seemed that the scales were starting to tip in favor of the good guys. But then Bruce's voice sounded in his earpiece.

"Vision's off the table. He's wrapped up with one of those uglies by the tower."

"Someone get eyes on Vision!" Steve ordered through his com device.

"I'm close." Came Wanda's response.

After that, it became a fight to get to Vision. The horde of aliens and their oversized masters were starting to head in a different direction. They knew where Vision was; where the stone was. Steve knew he had to get to it before they did. He started running in the direction of the masses, ruthlessly knocking through any enemy he passed. He was vaguely aware of Thor zooming through the air as well. The god of thunder was a streak of lightning and raw power that cut through any enemy stupid enough to try and stop him. It made it a bit easier for Steve to navigate the battlefield as well. He ran quickly, leaping over charred and dismembered corpses and weaving in and out of the still-fighting Wakandan soldiers. His path took him into the forested area directly below one side of the tower.

Things had thinned out considerably by the time he got there. The sounds of the fighting seemed distant. The space around him felt surprisingly empty. Still, Steve could hear the sounds of a struggle not too far away. He followed the noises until he found Vision, Wanda, and the hooded alien from Edinburgh. Steve had assumed him dead. Apparently he was wrong. However, as Wanda used her ability to lift the creature into the air and fold him mercilessly against a tree, Steve knew he wouldn't be wrong twice. The creature met a ruthless end, his bones crunching and his body contorting in an awkward way before he fell, unmoving, to the ground.

"We've got Vision." Steve announced. He took a few steps toward Wanda and Vision. Vision still had the stone in his head.

"Why?" Wanda was asking desperately. "Why didn't you stay?!"

A strange whirring sound started behind Steve. He saw Vision and Wanda look up and stare past him, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. There was something big, bad, and powerful looming behind him. It was there, haunting; threatening. He could feel it with every fiber of his being. Steve turned around and knew, without a shadow of a doubt, what he was seeing.

Thanos.

The Titan was a large, muscular, purple-skinned mass. He was garbed in gleaming golden armor... and something else. Anger and purpose flared to life inside of Captain America. The tyrant before him wore a golden gauntlet, outfitted with five of the six infinity stones. Each one a symbol of life lost. This monster had killed countless, and he would kill countless more. He wanted to end worlds and whole civilizations, and Steve Rogers was one of the only things left standing in his way. He'd better damn well make sure kept standing.

"It is time," he heard Vision tell Wanda gently. "Please, my love. It can only be you."

Steve turned to look at the two of them. Wanda's face was contorted in pain and sadness as Vision gently held her hand against his forehead. Vision was on his knees before her, staring up at her. Steve saw love and adoration in the AI's eyes, and he knew what he said before to be true. They would not trade lives. They could not. Wanda shouldn't be asked to this horrible thing. If Steve could spare her that pain, then he was going to.

Steve charged at Thanos. He delivered a left hook across the killer's face, and then a right uppercut that sliced the teeth of his shield up Thanos's jaw. The behemoth stumbled back a few steps. Steve kept on him. He hit Thanos with a gut punch, throwing every ounce of his enhanced and rage-fueled strength into each attack. His body went into a frenzy, working automatically and seemingly without any thought. He delivered punch after punch, backing Thanos away from Wanda and Vision with each hit. He had the bastard on the ropes. And then... he didn't.

Thanos brought a clubbed fist crashing down at Steve. He blocked the attack with his shield, but Thanos kept applying pressure. He weighed down on Steve like a mountain, causing his knees to buckle. Eventually, he was brought to a kneel. He put his other hand behind his shield and pushed back with the strength of both arms. His whole body trembled, and his teeth were clenched so hard he thought they might break apart right in his mouth. Steve let out a guttural yell. He could feel himself losing. His legs shook as he fought to push himself back up to his feet. He had to take the leverage away from Thanos. He had to get back up. To keep fighting. Steve let out a cry through gritted teeth, and then, inch by inch, he started to rise.

Then, Thanos swung his free hand around, punching Steve in the side of the head and sending him flying. His vision went in and out for a few seconds as consciousness threatened to leave him. Steve hit the ground and rolled several feet before coming to a hard stop. He was face first in the dirt with pain in his head and ringing in his ear. Steve gritted his teeth and tried to push himself up, but the ground itself started to wind itself around him like some sort of snake. It locked his arms and legs down, and then worked its way up his mouth; his nose. It cut off his airways, and then kept moving up, toward his eyes. He heard Wanda yell and felt a pulse of heat as a strong energy erupted from behind him.

Then, a deafening boom of thunder sounded from above them, followed by the sharp crackling of lightning. Steve could hear Thor's enraged voice and the gurgled, raspy tone of someone else. Steve struggled to lift his head away from the earth threatening to strangle and blind him all at once. He sat Thor standing before Thanos. His axe was imbedded in the tyrant's chest.

"...should have... gone for... the head." Thanos said. Steve watched as he lifted his trembling hand. The sixth stone was glistening in its place in the gauntlet.

Thanos snapped his fingers. He wretched the axe out of his chest and fell back into a purple portal, disappearing completely.

Then... there was silence.

...

All around her, Natasha saw people... turning to dust. Walking, running, sitting down, it didn't matter. She watched in horror as they all disintegrated right before her very eyes. They turned to ash, scattered away in the breeze, and were no more.

Everything happened so fast. It felt like they were drowning in the enemy, but then the sky had opened up to reveal a very familiar godly force. Branches of lightning streaked around the field and killed the alien creatures almost instantly. Thor had joined the fight. The scales started tipping in their favor. Then, Bruce delivered word that Vision was on the field. The exact thing that they were trying to make sure didn't happen was happening. A panicked race to reach Vision first had ensued.

Then, everything just sort of... stopped.

Natasha felt her throat tighten as a fear unlike anything she'd ever known closed around her. Her heart felt like it would beat out of her chest at any moment. She was rooted in place, watching a nightmare unfold around her. She didn't know what was going on, but she knew she was helpless. Whatever was happening, there was nothing she could do to stop it. People were dying all around her, with no hope of being saved. Natasha realized she was standing there, still as she could be... just waiting. Waiting to be next.

Steve.

Panic gripped her heart and set her into motion. Natasha ran as fast as she could, selfishly passing those who had fallen on the battlefield. She leaped over bodies, ducked under tree limbs and ran through clouds of ash to get back to where she hoped he would be. Tears stung her eyes at the thought of not getting there in time. Of finding him fallen like so many she had ran past, or, worse... not finding him at all.

No, she thought. No, no, no.

Natasha caught her foot on a root and almost tumbled forward. She managed to maintain her balance, though, and staggered several steps, around a bend where she found the others. Thor, Rhodey, Bruce... and Steve.

Her full-on sprint came to a skidding halt just a few feet behind him. He was sitting on the ground next to Vision's corpse. The sight of him caused her stomach to flip. At least, that's what she thought. Then, she realized it was something else. It was impossible to describe, but she felt something change inside of her. It was almost painful, but not quite, a tight squeezing followed by a flutter, a release, and then… nothing. Natasha gripped her stomach and bit her lip to try and keep the tears from spilling out of her eyes. She stumbled a few more steps forward, her feet shuffling noisily in the dirt.

"Oh, God..."

After watching Bucky, and then Wanda, turn to dust right before his eyes, Steve had fallen to his knees beside the charred corpse of Vision. He stared down at the body and the vacant space on his head where the stone used to be. Every ounce of strength seeped out of Steve like blood from a cut. His body felt heavy, weak; empty. He didn't know what had happened, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that they had lost. Whatever it was Thanos had set out to accomplish… he'd done it.

Steve looked up and over his shoulder and saw Natasha standing behind him. She was wide-eyed and pale, holding her stomach and trembling lightly. He didn't even think. In the blink of an eye, he pushed himself to a stand and wrapped his arms around her. He buried his face into her blonde hair and breathed quiet words of thankfulness along with many, many apologies. Steve still wasn't sure what had just happened, what he had just witnessed. All around them was confusion and chaos and death. So, so much death.

Nat gripped him tightly, her face pressed against his chest. She used him a shield to protect herself from the judgement of the world as she cried. When she felt like her hold on him was slipping, she'd pull a little closer, as if she were afraid that he, too, would turn to ash and sift right through her fingers. Seconds felt like hours as they ticked by. Somehow, Steve was still there, and so was she. When she felt brave enough, Natasha released her grip, stepped back, and looked around. Thor was still standing there, staring blankly at the spot where Thanos once was. The raccoon sat, defeated, on a fallen log. Bruce and Rhodey came stepping out from the brush a few seconds later.

"What the hell is happening?" Rhodey called.

Steve, still holding onto Natasha, willed himself to turn his head and look at the others. They were expecting him to answer, to lead; to do... something. His blue eyes went from face to face of those who were still standing. His arm tightened a little around Nat's shoulders.

"I don't know," he said, "but whatever it is... it's bad."


	6. When the Dust Settles

The sun was just starting to rise. Natasha could see the sky outside turning from gray to pink. Soon, she would be able to feel the warmth on her skin, when it finally filtered through the kitchen windows and made its way to where she sat at the table, her legs curled up into her chair; a cold cup of coffee in front of her. She was back at Avengers Headquarters. She was alone in a big, empty space made to accommodate many. Her eyelids felt heavy, and they burned they were so tired, but she wouldn't dream of sleeping.

That was an ironic statement, wasn't it?

Natasha hadn't been sleeping much lately. After the snap, there'd been too much work. There was no time for sleep. They'd been so busy trying to help the nation of Wakanda keep from folding in on itself after the death of not only T'Challa but Shuri as well, not to mention the countless soldiers and civilians that were lost. Natasha, Steve, Rhodey, Bruce; everyone that remained had done everything they could to help Wakanda, but they knew they couldn't stay there forever. They knew they had to come home and face whatever was waiting for them there. So, they did, but even then, Natasha could not sleep. The dreams were too much. Things would play out, over and over again, in her head. She would see them all die; she would feel that terrible feeling in her stomach on repeat. It was a cycle of pain played on an endless loop. She knew she couldn't escape her memories, but at least when she was awake she could try to focus on… other things.

She brought her thumb up to her lips, slipped her nail between her teeth and pressed down. Her green eyes stared at a vacant space on the wall in front of her. They stared so hard she thought she'd stare a hole right through it. If only she had that kind of power. If only she had any power at all. Natasha Romanoff was not one to feel helpless; to feel weak. She had stood beside gods and giants and fought just as hard as both of them combined. She had tools, assets, that were all her own; things that no one else could ever hope to possess. Natasha was strong, smart, quick; resourceful. But she was powerless. Powerless to help the countless people that had turned to dust right before her very eyes, and the one that had vanished from fight inside of her, where it was supposed to be the safest.

She closed her eyes. A single tear slipped out the corner of her left eye, rolled down her cheek and curled beneath her chin. It was warm, slow; gentle, like a soft touch.

"Nat..."

Her name was spoken like a tired sigh. It came from a familiar voice, gravely with sleep, or perhaps the lack of it. Natasha took a sharp inhale and opened her eyes. She inclined her chin and looked toward the sound. Steve stood in the kitchen doorway, his head tilted to one side and a sympathetic slant to his brows. It took one-half second of eye contact for him to pad over to her. Slowly, Natasha unraveled her legs so her feet could rest on the floor. The tile was cold. She turned in her seat just enough to lean the side of her head against Steve's warm, bare stomach. She bit her lower lip, hard, as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Couldn't sleep." She told him. Her own voice was a quiet, raspy whisper. She was afraid, if she spoke any louder, it would break, and her walls would crumble with it. She was afraid that, that one tear would give way to a broken levy of a thousand more, and she just couldn't have that. Natasha felt that she'd cried enough. They both had. The whole world had.

"It's okay," Steve said, even though she hadn't apologized. She didn't need to. He knew she was sorry. "I'll make you some coffee."

"I already have some."

"I'll make you some hot coffee." He corrected.

His grip on her loosened, and he pulled away just a little. Just enough for his finger to scoop beneath her jawline, where the tear had been, and lift her chin up from where the wetness had tried to weigh it down. She looked up to see blue eyes, loving, but sad. Natasha wasn't alone in her loss. She knew that Steve was right there with her, mourning. She wasn't alone. Even though the silence of the world made it feel like that sometimes, she had to keep reminding herself that she wasn't.

The sun was up, now. The room had taken on a warmer glow, and Natasha could feel the soft heat on her back. She sniffled, but nodded once. A little smile was given to match Steve's. "Sure," she said. "That would be good."

He didn't break contact right away. Instead, he just looked at her, brows furrowed. Natasha allowed herself to be seen, and she looked right back at him, refusing to shy away beneath the weight of his gaze. He needed it. They both needed it, to know that one another was here; to remind themselves of that. They were okay. It was easy to forget, especially when it didn't feel like they were okay more often than not. Everything still hurt. The wounds were still fresh; the pain was still new. It had only been five days. And maybe they weren't "okay", but they were alive. They were here. That was important.

Natasha laced her fingers around Steve's wrist and gave it a gentle squeeze. It was a gesture to let him know that she felt him, that she really felt him, and that she appreciated him. It was also to let him know that it was okay to let go. They'd gotten better about it, about not holding on so tightly these past few days, but it was easy to forget. It was easy to be afraid that the worst wasn't over and to hold on for dear life. In truth, they didn't know if the worst was over. They just had to hope that it was.

Steve released his hold and turned away to start some coffee.

"The device is still transmitting," Natasha said. "Still no response."

The "device" that Natasha spoke of was what appeared to be a pager that had belonged to Nick Fury. It'd been found in New York, where he sent the signal before he, like so many others, disappeared. A SHIELD agent searching for Fury had found the transmitter. Not knowing what else to do with it, he'd brought it here.

"And the battery?" Steve asked from the coffee pot.

She shrugged, even though Steve's back was toward her. "Still going strong, from what I can tell. The backup supply Bruce provided seems to be working well."

Green eyes carefully watched the movements of the man before them. Even turned away, the most minute of movements could be read. Tension, haste, hesitation, Natasha would be able to see them all. She watched Steve effortlessly pour coffee grounds into the machine. He closed the lid, filled a glass with water; poured it into a different compartment. His actions were fluid and smooth. He didn't miss a beat; he didn't pause once. Methodical. Routine. Like a soldier. A soldier who made coffee and waited around a foreign transmitting device every hour of the day.

"Steve-"

"Rhodey's checking in with the UN today." He pressed start on the coffee machine and continued to face away. He gripped the edge of the counter and looked out the window. "We should be in on the call."

Natasha stood up. "Do you really think that's the best idea?" She walked over to stand behind him. Her feet barely made a sound on the cold tile. "Given everything that's happened, we might not be the people they want to see."

He turned around to face her. "Given everything that's happened, we deserve to know what they've learned. If they've learned anything at all."

There was a standstill between them. Natasha could feel it. It was heavy and tense, threatening to crush them both. It felt like she was the only one pushing back against it, sometimes. There were moments when it seemed like all of the fight had gone out of Steve. Like he'd left it all there on that battlefield in Wakanda. It'd scattered in the wind along with the ashes of Bucky, Sam, and the countless others they'd lost. She placed her hand on her stomach. That familiar heat of anger and grief surged inside of her. It made it impossible to see straight, sometimes. If this was Steve's way of fighting back, she supposed the least she could do was let him have it.

"Alright," she finally said. "If there isn't anything else you think we should be doing..."

"There isn't anything else for us to do. At least not right now."

His answer was the same, Natasha knew, and would continue to be so until something changed. The world's authorities, its governments and armies, were doing what they could. They were spread thin among rescue, cleanup, and policing efforts. There were so many fires to put out, it was a wonder the whole planet hadn't gone up in smoke. Then again, it'd only been five days. Tony Stark seemed to be the only one who would have been capable of helping with that, and he was still missing. Pepper Potts had enlisted every bit of Stark resources and technology in helping wherever and however they could. She didn't know where Tony was, if he was even alive. She was still grieving, but she was helping. Natasha felt like they could be doing more, too. Steve felt differently. Steve felt they'd done everything they could, and this was the result. What else could they possibly do?

Natasha refused to believe that these colors that were bleeding out of him, now, were his true ones. He was just grieving. They both were. He was hurting, but he would recover. He had to...

"How are you feeling?" His question interrupted her thoughts.

"Fine," Natasha said. "The same." The same, of course, was not fine, not in the sentimental use of the word. But, physically, she was fine.

The coffee pot beeped, and the aroma of a freshly brewed pot came to life in the kitchen. It brought with it one of the few others who occupied the base alongside Natasha and Steve. Bruce Banner walked into the room. He, along with Rhodey and Rocket- the name, they had come to learn, of the raccoon that arrived in Wakanda with Thor- were still staying at the base. Thor was as well, but he came and went a lot more frequently than the others. It was hard to tell where he would be at any given moment.

The sight of Natasha and Steve by the coffee pot only temporarily halted Bruce's path. He paused in the doorway, blinked a few times, and offered a weary smile.

"Oh, hey, uh... good morning." He told them in his typical, almost absent-minded manner. For all intents and purposes, Bruce had actually been doing rather well at continuing on in some semblance of normalcy. It seemed like he'd taken the shock of, well, everything, pretty well. Natasha supposed he was a pretty adaptable guy, though. Getting too stressed out about things never really worked in his favor. Natasha and Steve stepped aside and made a path to the coffee pot.

"I, uh, went by and checked on the transmitter," he told them as he made his way to the cupboard. "Still on. Seems to be repeating the same loop it was on when we found it. Whatever Fury sent, he sent it far. I have no idea where that signal's being beamed to. I'm not even positive how it works. The alterations that were made to it are definitely not Earth tech."

That, Natasha knew, was a lot for the doctor to admit. As a man with seven PhD's, there wasn't much that Bruce didn't know. She watched him retrieve a cup and pour piping hot coffee into it. He mixed in some sugar and tossed the plastic stirrer into the trash.

"I'm thinking that if I can get inside of it without interrupting the signal, I might be able to get a better idea of just what processes are going on. Maybe pick up on some type of code."

"Whatever you can do," Steve's deep voice sounded from beside Natasha.

"Just make sure it stays on." Natasha reminded Bruce. "If Fury was using it, it wasn't to call his mother. It must be important."

Not that calling one's mother wasn't important, of course, but that wasn't exactly how the mind of Nick Fury worked in times of crises. In fact, his mind was one of the best when it came to crisis response. It hurt them to not have that mind at their aid, now. It hurt them in a lot of ways.

"Right," Bruce nodded. "Of course."

He took a drink of his coffee and remained where he was. His eyes were on Natasha's face, but she could tell where his mind was. She knew the question he wanted to ask. It was the same question that Steve had already asked, and the same question that both of them asked her almost every day. It hadn't been a preferable idea, but Bruce was the closest thing to a doctor they had left after everything, so... they'd gone to him when they suspected that the baby was gone. It'd been emotional and awkward as hell, but at the end of the day, he'd had Natasha's best interest at heart. Steve's, too.

But if he asked her that question one more time, Natasha was going to break a coffee cup over his head. Her face conveyed as much, too. Enough for Bruce to nod, announce that he should get back to work, and head out of the kitchen. When he was gone, Natasha went to the table to get her forgotten cup from earlier, if only to avoid Steve's scolding gaze that would tell her to "play nice" or "cut the guy some slack" or one of his classic Steve Rogers lines. She emptied the cold contents of the cup into the sink, rinsed it, and poured herself a new cup. She also got a cup down for Steve. He seemed a little surprised when she handed it to him.

"What? I didn't forget about you." She said.

Steve took the cup and pressed a kiss to her forehead, his opposite hand snaking around the back of her head. "I know you didn't." He said when he pulled away.

"I should go see if he needs help," Natasha said. She took her cup and headed out of the kitchen.


	7. Mixed Signals

Steve watched Natasha go and lingered around the coffee pot for several minutes after. He looked out one of the large windows facing the woods that bordered one side of the complex. Even without being able to hear it, he knew things were quiet outside. Unnervingly so. The base had been barely occupied before everything that happened with Thanos. Now that one-half of all life on earth had been wiped out with the literal snap of a finger, everything felt like a ghost town. Or, more aptly, a graveyard. A graveyard without any bodies, but filled to the brim with grief and loss.

He was no stranger to loss. Steve had outlived mostly everyone he'd ever known in his time. Bucky, due to his own extraordinary circumstances, had been the only one to make it into this day and age with Steve. He was the only one who really understood what it was like to be here, now. The only one who could truly relate. Beyond that, Bucky was Steve's best and oldest friend. Losing him had made things that just more difficult to handle.

But that wasn't all.

Steve had made new friends along the way. People that stood by him without flinching in some of the toughest of times. Sam Wilson, T'Challa, even Nick Fury, though they'd had their differences, would by missed by the Captain. Strong, resilient men and women the world over were gone without a trace. It was impossible to say if they were even dead. After all, what word did you use for someone who turned to dust right before your very eyes? Steve had seen many, many strange and terrifying things in his time, but what happened that day in Wakanda had been the worst, by far.

He released a heavy sigh and rubbed at the growth on his chin. He'd grown his beard out over the recent years to better disguise himself from the world authorities that were looking for him. Most of those world authorities were gone, now. Steve supposed that meant he didn't need the beard anymore. He wondered if Natasha had similar thoughts about her blonde hair. He wondered if she'd grow it out, back to those long, brilliant red locks. He wondered if she cared. Did the small things even matter anymore? The things that used to be normal now seemed strange and foreign in a world that had been so drastically changed by the snap. The "culling", the "incident", it had a lot of different names. None of them were good. They all served as chilling reminders of the tyrant who had come to their planet, killed half its inhabitants, and then left, all in a matter of minutes. Evil like that made some of the other things Steve had seen look like child's play.

Steve set his empty coffee cup back in the cupboard and left the room.

Rhodey would be connecting with what remained of the Council at 0800 hours. That gave Steve about forty-five minutes to prepare himself. He went back to his room, shaved, showered, and emerged a new man. The dark growth on his face was completely gone, leaving a smooth, chiseled jawline beneath. He pulled on a simple gray t-shirt and a pair of jeans. His suit, what was left of it, was hanging on the back of the bedroom door. It needed sent off for cleaning or repairs or a complete torching, but he didn't know if there was even anyone around to do that sort of thing. There was a good chance that there were more suits on backup in one of the equipment rooms, but Steve hadn't felt compelled to go searching. A new suit meant a new fight, and he wasn't feeling up to fighting just yet.

He left his room and took a right, heading to a flight of stairs that took him down to the main level of the building. Straight from there and then left, and Steve found himself before the large, open space that served as the building's main meeting room. It was surrounded by glass walls, suggesting transparency, with one panel serving as a door. Steve opened the lightweight door and stepped inside.

Rhodey was standing at the right side of the large, oval-shaped table inside. He had one arm across his chest, the other bent, so he could cup his hand over his mouth. He was staring at the many screens on the table's glass surface; thinking. The former Air Force pilot had been hard at work handling the political side of this mess... as much as he possibly could, anyway. He had no real title or jurisdiction, but most of those things had gone to the wayside in the last few days, anyway. What he did have was grit, resolve, and determination. Those were far heavier currencies, now, than they ever had been. Still, every man, even a man as good as James Rhodes, had their tipping point. There were walls that everyone ran into.

"Cap." Rhodey greeted Steve when he entered the room. He dropped his hand from his face and turned, placing one hip against the table. "Gotta say, I'm a little surprised to see you here."

Steve descended the couple steps to get down into the room. He approached the table and came to a stop at the bottom end of it, looking to see what Rhodey was seeing. Bad news, all around. The disappearance of so many people had a domino effect that rippled as far down the chain as it could possibly go. There was no, scientific way of explaining how Thanos had been able to accomplish what he accomplished. Even if there had been, did the world even have enough scientists left to figure it out?

"I want answers just as badly as everyone else," he told Rhodey.

"Yeah, well," Rhodey picked up a small, remote-like device from the table, "answers aren't always solutions." He aimed the remote toward a monitor wall behind the opposite side of the table and pressed a button. A few seats at that side of the table were soon filled with the projections of individuals.

Of the original twelve-person council elected by the U.N. to oversee S.H.I.E.L.D., four of its members remained. "Successors", AKA replacements, had been instituted for the other eight, but they said very little. The majority of the talking, unfortunately, was done by General Thaddeus Ross. He had never been a supporter of the Avengers Initiative or any of its candidates. Somehow, he seemed to blame them for every bad thing that happened on God's green earth. Now was no exception.

Billions had vanished after the snap, but that wasn't all. Every plane without a pilot, every car without a driver; every train with no conductor had crashed and led to the death of hundreds, maybe even thousands, more. Without properly manned hospitals, people were dying there, too. It wasn't just half of humanity gone. It was more than that. There were messes to clean up and fires to put out all over the planet, and Thaddeus Ross, the man who would've formerly had them do nothing, was now asking why they weren't doing more.

"Sir," Rhodey said, disciplined as always, "our best idea was trying to find Thanos and undo what he did. But he stepped into an intergalactic portal that took him to God knows where, and we don't have the resources to expand our search."

Steve had remained quiet for the most part. He wasn't even quite sure if the others knew he was there, as he'd been standing off to the side a bit; observing from a distance. But now, he took a breath and stepped into the ring. "With all due respect, General," he said in a way that, somehow, didn't seem to suggest any respect at all, "maybe you should be focusing your resources on rescue efforts. People are stranded. They need food; water. We need to focus on who we have left. We need to pay attention to earth before we start putting our eyes up to the skies."

"And just what have you been doing, Captain Rogers?" The General growled. "You and your band of heroes haven't made so much as one appearance since this nightmare started."

"We're doing what we can, when we can, Sir." Rhodey filled in.

Steve smelled an argument on the horizon. Either that or a cataclysmic lecturing quickly approaching. Thankfully, it never came. What did happen was the opening of the door behind them, and Natasha leaning her upper half into the room.

"Guys," she barely glanced at the council members at the table, "there's something you need to see."

"What?" General Ross said. "What something? What do you have going on there? You had better be practicing absolute transparency with this council, Colonel Rhodes."

"Right. Absolutely, Sir. We'll keep you informed." He made all the right promises, but he made them as he pressed a button to end the call with the Council. It was all done without hesitation. Steve admired Rhodey's ability to kick the bee's nest all while remaining perfectly calm. He dropped the remote onto the table and turned away from it, walking with Steve up the steps and toward the door, where Natasha was waiting.

"What's going on?" Steve asked her. He read her face. It was smooth, but he knew it well enough to see the concern in her eyes. That, of course, concerned him. He didn't know how much more bad news he could take.

"It's the device," she told him. "It stopped working."

Steve's heart plummeted into his stomach.

He followed Natasha, too worried to feel guilty about his quick pace and how Rhodey's mechanically-assisted legs might not be able to keep up with him. They headed back down the hallway and up the stairs to the second floor. A catwalk took them across the open expanse that overlooked the main entry area of the first level. At the other end of the walk were some research and development rooms, one of which Bruce had made into his own, personal lab to upkeep and monitor the device.

Natasha opened the door to the lab. Bruce was already inside. He was standing just outside the glass enclosure that held the device and the backup power supply that Bruce had rigged to attach to it. They were a row of blue diodes that were illuminated, suggesting they were still delivering power to the device. The device, something that, for all intents and purposes, resembled an old two-way pager straight out of the 90's- information supplied by Natasha- was no longer on. The small screen that had previously displayed a bi-split panel of red and blue with a yellow, star-like symbol in the middle was now dark. Steve came to stand next to Bruce in front of the enclosure. Natasha stood next to Steve.

"When did it go out?" He asked.

"Just a minute ago," Bruce explained. "I've checked everything, and the power supply is still running, but..." he sighed and scratched his eyebrow with his thumb. "I don't know. It just... quit."

Steve made a frustrated sound. They'd had no idea what the thing was doing, but the fact that it had stopped was incredibly disheartening. He leaned forward on the table in front of him and stared into the enclosure that rested upon it. His own, hardened reflection stared back at him. He could see Bruce beside him, looking perplexed, and Natasha on the other side, looking wounded and confused, like she was questioning why the universe would do such a thing to them now, of all times.

Then, he saw something else.

Movement in the background caused Steve to whirl around quickly. His actions surprised the others and had them following suit. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Natasha take a defensive position. Standing in front of them was an individual previously not there. A woman, short, with shoulder length blonde hair and a slightly ragged look on her face stood staring at them all like they were the ones who had just invaded her lab. She made eye contact with Steve and said one thing.

"Where is Fury?"


	8. Whatever It Takes

"Who the hell are you?" Rhodey exclaimed. "How did you get in here?"

The woman ignored his question and repeated hers, a little slower this time. "Where... is... Fury?"

"That's need-to-know information." Natasha said. She decided to step in a little closer; provide some female energy to, hopefully, smooth out some of the hostility she was starting to feel growing in the room. Her voice was low and calm, though she kept her gaze and other senses sharp. She was always poised, though; always ready to move. The biggest threat, after all, was to appear as if you weren't a threat at all.

"And in order to tell you that," she continued, "we're going to need some information from you, first." She tilted her head to the side and shrugged one shoulder. "Things are a little... uncertain around here, lately. Surely you can understand."

The woman glanced over to Natasha. She was considering. Nat could see the contemplation on her face. There was doubt and uncertainty there. This woman had been through things, too. Natasha could tell that, clear as day. Wherever she'd come from, it hadn't been anywhere good. She pressed her lips together and, in an attempt to appear non-confrontational, she tucked her hands into the pockets of her pants, patiently awaiting a response.

"My name is Carol Danvers," the woman finally said. "Fury called for me. He wouldn't have done that unless the situation was severe."

The situation was severe, alright. There was no denying that, but Natasha still couldn't help but wonder why Fury would've called this woman. In all of her years with S.H.I.E.L.D., she couldn't recall Fury ever talking about anyone named Carol Danvers. Granted, there were a lot of things Fury didn't talk about. The man's secrets had secrets, but he'd trusted Natasha. He'd told her things that he kept from others, even S.H.I.E.L.D., itself. She couldn't imagine that he'd felt too threatened to discuss her. There weren't a lot of things that intimidated Nick Fury. So, Carol was someone that Nick had never talked about, yet someone he'd called when everything went to hell. That meant she was useful, but it also meant she was reliable. Someone to trust, maybe. Still, the Black Widow wasn't someone to trade secrets so easily.

"That signal was sent almost a week ago," she said. "Why are you just now answering it?"

Carol perked a brow. Unlike Natasha, she did cross her arms over her chest. Not necessarily in an intimidating manner, Natasha noticed, but more defensive. "In case you haven't noticed, the universe is pretty much in chaos. Been a little busy."

"Fury is gone." Steve's deep voice cut into the fray. It was heavy; final. "Dead, we assume."

"He, uh... he was one of the people gone in the, uh... the snap." Bruce said, hands rubbing together a bit nervously.

Carol nodded. She understood, which meant she'd seen it, too. Wherever she came from.

"You said the universe," Natasha noted, "are you-?"

"Kree," Carol said. "Kind of."

"Kree." Bruce seemed to be the only person in the room who knew what that meant. "How did you know Fury?"

"Long story. He helped me out, once upon a time. I owed him one. Not that I ever thought he'd cash in." Carol looked to the side and sighed. "Wish he would've done it a little bit sooner."

"We were out of our depth," Steve said. "No one really knew what to expect."

Still, Natasha thought, if Fury had made the call earlier, they might have had the support of this Carol Danvers. Whatever she could do, it must have been good enough to make her an important ace up Fury's sleeve.

"I'm here, now." Carol said. "So... what can you tell me about what happened?"

All eyes seemed to fall on Steve, then. Natasha could feel Rhodey and Bruce turn their gazes to him before she saw it. She looked at him, too, but he was looking at her. His blue eyes locked with her green hues and held them for a few seconds. There was that silent understanding that existed between them, that had existed for years and would continue to do so, it seemed, no matter what they encountered. Natasha chewed her lower lip for a moment before giving a small, almost indiscernible nod. Steve seemed to be expecting it. He looked over to Bruce.

"I think you're the best person for the job," he told Banner.

Bruce nodded. "Well, uh… Thanos. Do you know who that is?"

"I've heard the name," Carol said.

"Well, he was looking for the infinity stones. They're these six gems that basically all possess-"

"I've heard of those, too." Carol said as she leaned one hip against a table.

"Oh, okay." Bruce chuckled nervously. "He got them. All of them. And he… he used their power to… wipe out half of Earth's population. I don't know why Fury waited so long to send that signal to you, but if he sent it, he must have thought you could help."

Carol was quiet for a few moments. She had her arms folded across her chest and her head turned to the side. Her eyes landed on a vacant spot on the wall. She took a deep breath and sighed it out.

"Thanos was tearing through other planets like a kid through wrapping paper looking for those stones," Carol said. "We were trying to locate him, but he moved around a lot, and so did his fleet. He has… something of a huge following." She dropped her arms to her sides and stepped away from the table. Carol turned around and looked at the transmitter in its enclosure. Another sigh left her.

"So, he did what he came here to do," she said. "Which means he's probably moved on to do the same thing somewhere else." Carol turned her gaze toward the others. "Question is, what are you planning on doing about it?"

Silence followed. Gazes were exchanged. No one seemed to jump at the opportunity to answer that question, likely because no one knew how to. What's more, they were still getting a read on Carol. They didn't have many secrets, many tricks up their sleeves, but what they did have they couldn't go divulging right away. Natasha could see pride, nervousness and the male ego in general threatening to snap a tense situation, and not in a good way. She sighed and looked at Carol. She put on her best diplomatic smile and said, "Could you… excuse us for a moment?"

She made a somewhat awkward gesture toward the door. Carol seemed to consider this for a moment, weighing those who would be staying behind with a heavy gaze. She was suspicious. Rightfully so, Natasha thought. There was so much to be unsure of here. She imagined the same applied to... wherever a Kree came from. Regardless, Carol eventually gave a nod and stepped out of the room. When the door closed once more, Rhodey and Bruce stepped a little closer. The four of them formed a small cluster to, no doubt, discuss. Natasha could see the uncertainty on Steve's face. The stern worry behind his furrowed brow and downturned lips.

"What do you think?" Rhodey asked, looking between Natasha and Steve. He, like most others, had come to look to the two of them for answers. Steve was their capable leader, their Captain, but he and Natasha had worked and fought side-by-side for so long, now, it was clear that they were a team. Equals. Steve had made sure to make that perfectly clear, even before this great catastrophe they found themselves in the middle of.

"I don't see anyone that signal wasn't intended for coming in and pretending it was for them," Natasha offered.

Steve nodded his agreement. "But we don't know who she is or what she can do. We need to be careful. The last thing we need is someone thinking they've found a vulnerable planet for the taking."

Steve was no stranger to inter-galactic takeovers. Neither was Natasha. They'd both had more than their fair share of planetary foreigners attempting to swoop in on an Earth they thought was ripe for the taking. Every time, they were pushed back. Except for this time. This time, it felt like they'd failed. Thanos and his army had come in and taken more than anyone thought possible. Natasha rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling and thought for a moment.

"Thor should be here..." she said.

"I'll call him." Bruce offered. Thor still wasn't the most up-to-date on Earth technology, but they had at least taught him how to use a cellphone. Even Steve had been able to learn that one.

Bruce made his way out of the room, sliding his phone out of his pocket as he did so. Natasha watched him go before returning her gaze to the others. When her eyes fell on Steve, she could see immediately that he still wasn't at ease. There was still something bothering him.

"What is it?" She asked.

Steve sighed and shook his head, looking at the floor for a moment. "I don't know. I just can't help but to think... why didn't he call her sooner? If she could've helped us with that fight..."

"I'm with Cap," Rhodey said. "Timing seems a bit off."

"Nick has his reasons, you know that." Natasha said. "The best we can do, now, is hear her out. Catch her up to speed and see if she can help. If she's a threat, we'll handle it."

It was spoken with an air of easy certainty. Natasha was shaken by their loss against Thanos, but she wasn't so shaken as to think they couldn't still take care of themselves. They were still smart, still careful; that hadn't changed. There was so much to doubt, but she had to at least believe in that. She looked between both men, hoping to convey a sense of confidence that she might not have completely felt, herself. Rhodey was looking at Steve, no doubt looking for some kind of lead to follow. Natasha looked at him, too, pulling him away from whatever thoughts he was having and beckoning him to look her. That invisible tether pulled, and, eventually, those blue eyes pulled up to Natasha's face.

"This might be the first lead we have," she reminded him. "We should at least see what happens."

Steve's hardened expression smoothed out a bit as he pushed a breath out of his nose and nodded. "You're right," he said. "No surprise there." He huffed out a small laugh.

"Fine," Rhodey also relented, "but let it be known that all that sneaking in, unannounced, crap? I don't like it. It's creepy as hell."

Natasha chuckled. "Come on," she said as she headed for the door. "We should at least be hospitable to our new guest."

They met up with Bruce on their way out of the room. "He wasn't far," he told them. "I'm sure he'll be here in one shake of a hammer. Er, axe."

Sure enough, Thor arrived before they'd finished giving Carol a proper tour of the place. He was dressed in "civilian" clothes, which was to say he wasn't donning armor and a red cape. Instead, he wore a forest green hoodie and black pants. With Asgard gone and Heimdall dead, the god of thunder's travel options were limited. Still, that didn't prevent him from moving around the globe. He was in search of answers. They all were. Thor, Natasha, the entire nation of Wakanda... Everyone had questions. They were all entitled to their own methods of finding the answers to those questions. At least Thor had been making an attempt at blending in while he did so. Natasha had a hunch that he'd been looking for Jane Foster. While they weren't together anymore, Natasha knew that Thor still cared for the woman. What's more, Jane was an astrophysicist. It wouldn't hurt to have a person like that on their side to help look into things. Thor had returned alone, though, and the look on his face said he hadn't found any answers during his time away.

They were in the conference room when Thor arrived. Rocket had crawled out from underneath whatever piece of heavy machinery he'd been working on and decided to join them. The talking, spacefaring animal spent most of his time in the garage. Natasha suspected it was some sort of coping mechanism for him. The tree, Groot, had been something of a surrogate son to him, and had been lost in the snap. Other introductions had already been made, which just left Carol and the Asgardian.

"This is the Kree woman?" Thor asked. He was standing in front of Carol, literally looking down on her given the height difference between them. His arms were folded across his chest, and he had a skeptical look on his face. "She is small."

"She has just flown a couple thousand light years to help you out and really isn't in the mood for misogynistic bullshit." Carol retorted. Her arms were folded across her chest, too, and she was staring up at Thor without fear. "So if we can get past the pissing contest and to the part where we talk about how we're gonna kill Thanos, that would be great." Carol perked a brow.

Rocket was laughing from where he sat at the table.

A challenge. It was clearly issued. Natasha recognized it easily, mostly because it was how she would've issued one, herself. It didn't seem to matter what planet you were from. The little guy, or girl, was underestimated and overlooked. She turned her green eyes to Thor, barely containing a smirk of her own. A tense moment settled over the room as Thor and Carol stared at one another, neither one of them giving an inch.

Then, Thor smiled, looked at the others and said, "I like this one." He then looked at Carol and offered a hand. "I am Thor Odinson."

"Carol Danvers." Carol said, accepted the handshake.

"Well, Carol Danvers," Thor said once the handshake was over, "the fate of the galaxy lies in turmoil. What is it you intend to do?"

That was the million dollar question, Natasha thought. It was the same one that Carol had asked all of them. She had no idea where Kree was, but she was sure that, if it had suffered the same kind of devastation they'd suffered here, Carol was no stranger to loss.

"I intend to find Thanos." Carol answered simply. "I've been... around, and by now, so has his name. We can't be the only ones looking for him."

"So, what," Rhodey asked, "are you just going to fly around and start looking for him? That's what you do, right? Fly?"

Carol ignored the question. "Do you have a way to track him?" She asked instead.

"Not... necessarily." Bruce said. "But! We were able to track the Tesseract when Loki had it. If we can duplicate that device and slap it on a jet with some modifications that can withstand... space," he shrugged, "it might be worth a shot."

"Hah!" Thor boomed and delivered a meaty slap between Bruce's shoulder blades. "I knew Heimdall was not mistaken in returning you to earth."

There was a collective holding of breath as Bruce winced and screwed up his face a bit. Despite countless occasions of him saying he had it under control, there would likely always be the fear that the "other guy" would make a showing. Of course, Hulk had refused to show his face during every single instance involving Thanos and his "Children". That was something everyone, including Bruce, was still perplexing over. Natasha thought that it would just be the irony, though, to have the big, angry, green monster come out swinging now of all times.

Fortunately, he didn't.

Bruce pushed out a nervous chuckle, nodded, and very purposefully moved away from Thor. Threat of Hulking out or not, the doctor wasn't a fan of being jostled around by the Asgardian. Bruce Banner wasn't exactly built for that sort of thing. Thor didn't care, though. He never had, and he likely never would. Natasha found that continuity in character somewhat... comforting. A lot had changed in a very little amount of time. Any semblance of normalcy was something to cling to. She hoped it would help carry them through whatever came next.

"I'll, uh, I'll need some input." Bruce told Carol. "If you could... tell me a bit about what things are like out there. Wherever you might be looking. It will help in determining what sort of machinery we're looking to build, here. Machinery... isn't really my strong suit."

No, Natasha thought, that was Tony Stark's area of expertise, and he was still missing. Impossible to prove dead, given his absence before the snap, but the odds hadn't exactly been in his favor out there. Natasha glanced at Steve. He was still burdened by Tony's absence, mostly because of everything that had happened before it. He carried the weight of their fallout and lack of reconciliation and refused to let it slide off his shoulders. It was a two-way street, Natasha had tried to tell him. Steve gave Tony that phone, he extended the olive branch; Tony had been the one who refused to take it. No one had forced him to make that decision. He'd done that all on his own. Still, she knew what it was like to wish that things had been different. The Sokovia Accords had caused a rift in a lot of ways. There was no going back, no changing that. All they could do was move forward. They could keep going, no matter what.

"Sure," Carol was saying. "Whatever you need."

"Ah, I can help with the mechanical bits," Rocket said as she slid down from his chair.

"I, too, will offer my aid." Thor said. "I will scour the realm to acquire whatever tools you need."

"Uh, thanks." Bruce chuckled. "But I think for now we can just... visit the R&D department." He looked at Carol and made a gesture toward the door. "Shall we?"

Bruce, Carol and Rocket headed out of the room. Thor followed, apparently intent on making himself useful. Rhodey pressed a button on the large table in the middle of the room and downsized the plethora of screens and diagrams that seemed to always be there. All but one, Natasha noticed. The video footage of the aircraft that carried Tony up into the stratosphere. It was muted, but the news caption from that day ticked across the bottom of the screen. It was Tony's last known location and, assumingly, the last time anyone had seen him alive. They were still looking for him; still scouring every form of surveillance and communication they had in the hopes of picking something up. After all, if anyone could be stranded in space and survive, it was Tony Stark. If only to get back and stick it to everyone who said he wouldn't.

"We'll find him, Rhodey." Steve said. He stood beside the former Air Force pilot and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I know," Rhodey said. "I know we will." He stared at the screen for a few seconds longer before downsizing that, as well. "I should see if any of our feelers have picked up anything."

"Of course," Nat said, pulling Steve's gaze to her. She tilted her head toward the door. "We'll leave you to it."

Steve gave Rhodey's shoulder a squeeze before stepping away. He followed Natasha out of the room. They walked down the hall and toward the stairs that would take them back up to the second level. The afternoon sun could be seen through the large windows at one side of the building. It was starting to work on its downward descent toward the western horizon. Natasha found herself wondering where the day had gone. It'd been plenty eventful; she supposed it made sense that time had just sort of flown by. She should be thankful for that. Not all days were the same. In fact, most of them hadn't been. Each second felt like it stretched on forever. Most of that had to do with how preoccupied she had been, thinking about the past, everything that had happened, and not what could. It seemed like she might have the opportunity to change that.

Natasha came to a pause in the middle of that long catwalk that faced the windows. She looked out at the grass, the trees; the horizon.

"When Bruce gets tracking the stones figured out," she said, "we should start looking into our options of how we're going to get up there." Her eyes were on the sky.

Steve followed her gaze. "We? Nat, I'm not so sure we should be leaving."

"Why not?" She turned to look at him. "We don't even know what she can do. We can't just leave her to go find Thanos on her own."

"Thor will go."

"And we should, too." Natasha furrowed her brow in frustration and confusion. She couldn't quite get used to this, this version of Steve who didn't lace up his boots and get in the front of the line when it came time to fight. She couldn't wrap her head around it. She took a step closer to him.

"This is our fight, too." She reminded him. "It's still our fight, and... Look at me." His gaze had fallen. Natasha reached a hand up to take hold of his freshly shaven jawline. It wasn't firm, but it was enough to not be ignored.

"This isn't just about us. We owe it to every single person we lost to make this right. We owe it to them to not let him win. If we don't do this, if we don't do something, then what are we, Steve? These past four years, you and me, Sam; every single person who fought alongside us... we stood for something. That hasn't changed. We haven't changed."

Steve said nothing.

Natasha felt anger and sadness swirling inside of her. A dangerous concoction. It was known to make her say things, do things, that she regretted. She tried to keep a hold of it, now, but she could feel it slipping. She was just so... tired. Every fiber of her being felt like it'd been beaten down over and over again, and she was trying so hard to keep holding on; to keep standing up. Whenever she felt that way before, Steve was always there. He was the crutch, the sturdy foundation she needed to stand. He lent her his strength until he could remind her of her own, and then, when she was strong enough to stand on her own, he was never far. Always right there beside her; ready. Where was that now?

Natasha sighed and let her hand fall away from Steve's face.

He caught her wrist and pulled her closer.

She felt her heart flutter in her chest as she found herself staring up into blue eyes. Something passed before them, a familiar thing that had become almost undetectable these past several days. It was determination. That look that said it didn't matter if it was a man or a mountain standing in front of him, Steve Rogers was going to get through it. It was only a split second before Steve pulled Natasha to his chest and pressed their lips together, but she'd seen it, and it was enough to chip away at the walls she hadn't even known she'd been building. One, swift blow, and they fell like broken glass around her. She closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him firmly, reveling in the feeling of his warmth. Natasha loved this man, but she realized she hadn't been loving him since this nightmare started. She'd been angry, bitter, and sometimes numb. She'd been keeping him at arm's length because they were handling things differently and, thus, not seeing eye to eye on everything. But they weren't supposed to. They weren't supposed to be the same. They never had been. They came from opposite ends of the spectrum, and they met each other in the middle. It was perfect balance. It was beautiful. It'd been an incredibly stupid thing to overlook, but she realized how important it was to remember.

After a few, heart racing moments, their lips parted. Natasha took a half step back and opened her eyes. Steve was looking down at her with such soft adoration in his eyes it was almost easy to forget the look that had been there before he kissed her. She took a second to catch her breath and try to ignore the heat in her cheeks. She knew it was there, though. Even if she couldn't feel it, she could see it in the little smirk that Steve wore.

"So..." she finally said, "is that a yes?"

"Yes." Steve replied firmly. "We'll go. We'll do it. Whatever it takes."

"Whatever it takes." Natasha replied.


	9. A Job to Do

When Steve opened his eyes the next morning, he wasn't alone. Natasha slept beside him, curled up on her side; her face turned toward him. Her arm was stretched across the empty space between them, fingertips just barely resting on his shoulder. Her touch was feather light, but the weight of her presence was immeasurable. Steve had come to expect to wake up and find nothing but empty space beside him. He knew Natasha slept poorly, at best, and often opted to just get up rather than face the nightmares. The first few nights, he'd tried to comfort her; to do everything he could to offer some kind of peace to her troubled heart and soul, but Natasha had wanted only space. Distance. It pained Steve in ways he'd never admit, but he knew that Nat wasn't the kind of woman to press.

To have her here, now, was more important than anything to Steve. Even if it didn't mean she'd gone without nightmares, it meant that she wanted to stay. She chose to remain here, with him. It was a small but positive step toward healing. At least, Steve hoped it was. They both had a lot of wounds to recover from. Bruises and scratches had healed, but the beating they'd taken was the kind that broke the human spirit. Something like that wasn't so quick to bounce back from. Natasha had been fighting, though. Maybe Steve hadn't been fighting as hard as he should have. Maybe he hadn't been by her side in quite the way he should have. But that was going to change. He wouldn't let his fear of losing her be the thing that ultimately pushed her away. Everything that had been broken, they could rebuild. Together.

Steve rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one arm. His other arm lifted, so he could trail the backs of his fingers down the smooth skin of Natasha's shoulder and arm. Her pale skin was warm to the touch, as if from basking in the sun. She stirred a bit when he touched her, eyelids fluttering and then eventually opening completely. The veil lifted from her green eyes, and they were soon staring keenly up at Steve. She was sharp and wise, even upon first waking. Steve smiled down at her, even more so when she rolled her eyes and gave a tired groan.

"It's impolite to stare," she grumbled, but even as she did so, Natasha scooted closer. A gentle push had Steve rolling onto his back once more, so she could rest her head on his shoulder, her face nuzzled into the warm crook of his neck. She laced an arm around his waist to lock herself in position next to him.

Steve slid one arm beneath her and continued the gentle trailing of his fingers along her shoulder and arm. "Only if you get caught," he said.

Natasha laughed softly. "You did get caught," she reminded him.

He grinned and turned his head so he could press a kiss into Natasha's hair. "You slept better?"

"Mm," Natasha nodded. "I was thinking about New York."

"Which time?"

Natasha huffed out a quiet laugh. "The first time," she said. She lifted her head and looked up at Steve. "When we all met."

Steve remembered that all too clearly. His first time truly back out in the world had showed him a world not at all like the one he remembered. Everything he'd known had changed, and the general oddness had been ramped up to an eleven. He remembered Natasha, the mysterious, enigmatic, Black Widow. She was confident and dangerous and impeccably brave. Steve had learned that when she volunteered to launch herself up onto a Chitauri aircraft and fight the alien invaders like it was nothing. She had no suit of armor or godlike powers, but Natasha fought just as fiercely as everyone else. It was something Steve always admired and respected about her.

"Never thought I'd consider those the simpler times." He commented.

Natasha slowly sat up, turning her upper body so she could look down at Steve. "Chitauri tech was still being salvaged more than a year after the attack," she said. "Most of it went down when S.H.I.E.L.D. collapsed, but HQ wasn't the only storage site they had."

Steve perked a brow. That was news to him. He pushed himself up onto his forearms and waited for Natasha to continue.

"There are other places that, maybe, haven't been touched. We might find some gear that could help with... whatever it is Bruce intends on building."

"How would we even know what we're looking for?" Steve asked.

Natasha shrugged one shoulder, like she hadn't thought that part through but it wasn't very important, anyway. "Bruce can key us in. Or we can just take him with us."

"Banner's not exactly the type for breaking and entering." Steve pointed out. What's more, he wasn't so sure an outing with just the three of them was the best idea. The cat was out of the bag in regards to Steve and Natasha's relationship. Necessity had forced them to clue Bruce in on, well, everything, but revealing the truth hadn't made things much less awkward. Steve knew that things like that shouldn't matter anymore, given what they'd all been through, but they did. At the end of the day, they were only human... for the most part.

"Let's at least run it by him," Nat said. "See what he thinks."

That, Steve could do. He nodded once and sent a small smirk up at Natasha. "Do I at least have time for breakfast, first? Not all of us are geniuses when we first open our eyes for the day."

"Yes, Mr. PSA. I know how important the first meal of the day is."

She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Steve's lips before sliding out from beneath the blankets and standing up. Steve watched her for a moment. A small shake of his head was given. Natasha's mind was a steel trap. Once something what in there, it was in there forever. There was nothing she didn't remember. The good, the bad, the ugly, it was all up there. Sometimes, that was a good thing; other times it could be crippling. Steve knew there were a lot of things Natasha experienced that would be better off forgotten. Thankfully, a joke about the PSA videos he'd done for highschools once upon a time wasn't one of them, no matter how much he might have wished it was.

A short while later, after showers and coffee and breakfast, Steve and Natasha were heading to the lab that Banner had set up for himself. It was, essentially, a cleared out hangar with a hodgepodge of tech and machinery lying around like some strange, Frankenstein-like creations. Screens and monitors with specs, readings, and all sorts of data Steve could never hope to interpret were set up here and there. The Quinjet was the only aircraft still housed in the hangar, and given the replica Bruce had of it on one of the screens, Steve guessed the doctor had plans for the aircraft.

"Oh, hey, guys." Bruce said when he saw them. He took his glasses off and offered a small smile. "What's up?"

"How's it going?" Natasha answered his question with another question. She was looking over some of the equipment laid out on a nearby table, fingers dancing lightly across metallic surfaces. Steve could see how on-edge even the smallest touching of equipment made the doctor. He could also see the smirk forming in Natasha's eyes. She had a habit of messing with people like that.

"Uh, well..." Bruce rubbed the back of his neck, "there's a lot of work to be done. I'm still in the early stages of planning. A lot to, uh, take into consideration." He nodded and put his glasses back on. He pulled up a graph on one of the monitors.

"I know a little from my time... abroad," he said, "but there are a lot of elements to factor in. Temperature, gravity, phospholuminescent radiation..."

"All those degrees, and you still can't speak English." Natasha commented.

Steve gave her a look that said "play nice". She saw it and countered it with an innocent shrug, feigning obliviousness. Steve shook his head and returned his gaze to Bruce. "Sounds like you have your work cut out for you," he said. He glanced at Natasha for a second. "We were hoping we could help you out."

That seemed to surprise Banner a bit. He leaned his back against the table and folded his arms across his chest. "Really?" He looked between Steve and Natasha a few times before ultimately settling his gaze on Steve. "How's that?"

It was Natasha who answered, though. "S.H.I.E.L.D. had storehouses hidden all over the country," she said. "There's bound to be some Chitauri scrap laying around, right? I figure, what better way to get us to space than with gear that came from it."

Bruce thought about that for a second, his foot tapping quickly against the ground. It was a good idea. Steve knew it, which meant Banner probably did, too. After a few seconds, the doctor responded. "It would be easier to recreate some things from templates..." Bruce uncrossed his arms and stepped away from the table. "But how are you going to get in? Even out of commission, S.H.I.E.L.D. probably has security protocols in place."

Natasha shrugged. "Recent satellite images show no outward signs of activity," she said. "And I've never met security I couldn't breach." The end of the world didn't make Natasha any less of a spy, it would seem.

Bruce looked at Steve, as if to see if he was on-board with this idea. Steve stood, arms across his chest, and gave a nod.

"So, wanna come with?" Nat asked.

"Come where?" Carol's voice sounded from behind them. She had just entered the room; automatic doors still closing behind her.

"We're going to see if we can get our hands on some Chitauri tech," Natasha said.

Steve wondered if Carol even knew what that meant. If she was confused, she made no sign of it. She slid her hands into her back pockets and inclined her chin a bit, regarding them with a curious stare.

"So, what... like some kind of smash and grab mission?" She asked, seemingly skeptical. Then, her serious look broke into something of a sly smile. "Lucky you. Smashing and grabbing are two things I'm very good at. I'll come along."

"Looks like you're off the hook, Doc." Steve said, though he was pretty sure Bruce had no intention of accompanying them to begin with. Regardless, he looked a little relieved. Smashing was more the "other guy's" forte.

"Where is this place?" Carol asked.

"Pennsylvania," Natasha answered. "Just outside Harrisburg."

"We'll head out at sundown," Steve said. He looked at Bruce. "We'll need to borrow the jet."

"Sure," Bruce said, returning to his work. "Just bring her back in one piece."

Easier said than done, Steve thought. They left Bruce to his work. Natasha branched off with Carol, to fill her in on the details of their mission. Steve couldn't help but to feel a small bit of apprehension. This would be their first time "out in the world" since it all went to hell. Thus far, he'd only seen a distant view of what things were like. He was worried what an up close and personal view would look like. He hoped that there weren't other people as keen at breaking into places as Natasha was. The last thing they needed was to find a guarded storehouse full of dangerous technology. Steve knew what it looked like when power fell into the hands of the wrong people. This whole situation they were in, now, was a direct result of that very thing.

It felt a bit strange, "suiting up" that evening. While it wasn't the brightly colored homage to patriotism that it used to be, Steve's gear still had a certain representation to it. He wasn't sure what that was anymore, but he was sure that the stars and stripes didn't typically represent theft. Natasha had reminded him, on multiple occasions, that the storehouse was abandoned. It couldn't belong to S.H.I.E.L.D. if S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't even exist anymore. Besides, even if it did, it wasn't like they were some untouchable kingdom of saints.

The latter point didn't resonate with Steve so much as the former. There were still a lot of things that he and Natasha didn't see eye to eye on. Regardless, they had both changed in their years together, learning from one another and adapting in places that mattered. Natasha's moral code had become a lot more honorable over time, and in turn, she helped Steve see that the world wasn't all black and white. There were shades of gray in everything, and the right thing didn't always look like the right thing to every eye that gazed upon it. At the end of the day, what mattered was doing things for the good of others while not forgetting about themselves. Their needs were important, too. They'd planned on building a life together, based on those needs. It'd all been going so well, too. They got out, for all intents and purposes... until they weren't, anymore.

Steve slid into his heavy, canvas pants and the thick, protective chest piece across which the black star was stitched. He laced up his combat boots, slipped on his gloves, and grabbed his shield. It was the same, black vibranium that T'Challa had given him. The king of Wakanda, kind, generous, but not a man to be taken lightly, was but one of millions of Thanos's victims. He took the Black Panther, he took Sam, he took Bucky... he took Steve's unborn child. He took everything. Steve didn't know what, if anything, they could take back, but he knew that Natasha was right. They had to try.

"Looking good, Captain."

Natasha leaned against the doorway to the armory, a smirk on her face. She was outfitted in her black tactical gear. Reinforced shoulder and knee pads along with a green and black kevlar vest and her own gloves, primed with the electric charges of her Widow's Bite, completed her ensemble. Her twin batons were crisscrossed in their sheathes on her back, and a gun was holstered at her hip. She looked at ease. It always seemed easy for her, to slip back into that skin like she'd never left it. Before, Steve thought that's because it was. He thought Natasha this cold, calculated thing, but he had long since learned that, that wasn't the case. Far from it, in fact. She was warm, she was caring, but she knew that the second you rolled over and showed the world that soft underbelly, it saw vulnerability, and it attacked. The world had not been a kind place to Natasha Romanoff. It tried to break her; so, in turn, she made herself unbreakable. Steve truly believed that of her, even when she couldn't see it in herself.

"Yeah, well, the suit's a little snug around the midsection." He said, motioning toward his stomach.

"Oh, I don't know." Natasha stepped away from the door and walked toward him. "I think you look pretty good for an old man." She came to a stop in front of him. His hands found her hips, while hers slid up to rest against his chest. Her fingers traced the edge of the black star.

"You ready for this?" She asked, her eyes searching his.

It was a loaded question, he knew. Natasha knew as well as Steve did that this would probably be one of the safest missions they ever went on, but she also knew it was their first time donning the mantles since Wakanda. They were putting themselves back out there into a world that was very much not what it used to be. And, small as this job seemed, there was a lot riding on it. It could, potentially, mean a breakthrough for Bruce and their intentions of going out there, finding Thanos, and bringing him to justice. They all had a part to play in this, and each part was immensely important. So, yes, Steve was ready, because he had to be.

"I'm ready," he told her with a nod. "Let's go see what we can find."

Natasha smiled, satisfied with his answer. She rolled up onto her tiptoes long enough to kiss Steve and ignite that familiar fire in his soul. Then, she was pulling away to turn and lead the way out. Steve followed behind her with a grin on his face and cautious optimism in his heart.


	10. Area 14

Stepping back into the Quinjet felt strange. It felt like months had passed since the last time Natasha was on the aircraft, but really it'd only been a little over a week. She told herself it was like riding a bike. You just slid onto the seat, grabbed hold of the handle bars, and started pedaling. In a way, it was. The physical act of getting the bird in the air was as easy as breathing to her at this point. It was nothing. It was what it signified, what it foretold, that made her a bit nervous. They were "getting back out there" in a way. They were standing back up, brushing the dirt off, and going to work. Natasha's face was all calm determination, but on the inside, she felt like it was her first time in the field.

They had no idea what things were like out there. What they were really like. They didn't know what they were walking into. It could be nothing, or it could be chaos. Natasha just had to make sure that, either way, she was ready. She had to remind herself who she was, who they all were, and what they were capable of. Thanos had knocked them all on their backs. Now was the chance to show that he wasn't able to keep them there. They'd been down long enough; spent enough time licking their wounds. It was time to do something, now. No one else was going to do it for them.

"We've reached altitude," Natasha announced. "Should reach our destination within an hour."

She glanced over her shoulder. Steve was standing nearby, looking out one of the windows on the left side of the Quinjet. Carol was standing behind the empty co-pilot seat, arms folded across her chest and eyes out the front window. Natasha sensed a little bit of trepidation from Steve, and some impatience from Carol. She figured she might as well try to break the silence up a bit.

"Probably not as fast as your preferred mode of transportation, huh?" She asked the woman. Carol, apparently, could do things like turn herself into a human propulsor and jet her way around the universe.

The Kree woman turned her gaze to Natasha and gave a small, apologetic smile. "Been awhile since I did this the old-fashioned way."

Natasha chuckled and returned her gaze to the front. "It's slightly more discreet this way," she said. Though, Carol didn't seem the type for discretion. She could light up like the Fourth of July and had a suit that was just as colorful. The Quinjet was quiet, though, and its reflective panels allowed for it to slip through the air, undetected. It was preferable in a situation like this, where they had no idea what kind of security, if any, would still by in place at the old S.H.I.E.L.D. storage site. Natasha was hopeful, but she wasn't naive. This was S.H.I.E.L.D., after all. The organization had a way of not making things easy, even from the grave it had fallen into.

"What do you expect to find?" Carol asked.

"Who knows," Natasha said. "With S.H.I.E.L.D. it's always a crap shoot, but I'm hoping we stumble across some Chitauri tech. Bruce said it'll take some pretty high-powered battery cores to power some of the gear he plans on making. I'm thinking a Chitauri energy source would fit the bill."

"You know, I'm kind of a battery, myself." Carol said. "I could probably power that gear."

"I'd rather rely on you for fighting than transporting." Steve said. He stepped away from the window and joined the two women, taking a stand behind Natasha's seat.

"Right," Natasha grinned. "Having you charter us around space would be a severe waste of your talents." She glanced back at Carol, who was wearing a little smirk of her own. Natasha got the sense that, just because she offered to power the gear didn't mean she wanted to. She got the sense that Carol wanted to be a part of the fight just as badly as Steve needed her to be. That was something Natasha could relate to.

She returned her focus to the flight, but Natasha listened in to some of Steve and Carol's conversation. They traded service stories, mostly. Before her time on Kree, Carol was an Air Force pilot here on Earth. Natasha never thought that a couple of vets exchanging stories of their time travel and world relocation would be normal topics of conversation, yet here she was, not even batting an eye. At this point, she was pretty sure she'd seen it all. Thor was friends with a talking raccoon with a taste for violence, for God sake. The universe was a weird, weird place. Somehow, that made it that much more important to protect.

While Steve and Carol made idle conversation, Natasha kept her eyes alert to the world outside the jet. They were at a low enough altitude that she could see the streets below as they flew over them. There were abandoned cars littering the roads. Most of them were pushed to the sides to clear the roadways, but that seemed to be the extent of any cleanup effort being made. There just wasn't enough manpower to get the vehicles off the streets. The yellow light from the street lamps cast an eerie glow over their hollow shells. Most houses were dark, and there was very little sign of activity. It looked as though everyone had just dropped what they were doing and up and left without a moment's notice. Probably because that is what happened for the most part. Only they hadn't left. They'd been taken. Against their will, all of them. It reminded Natasha of a calm after the storm. Thanos was that storm. He'd come in like a whirlwind, sweeping through everything in his path. Anyone lucky enough to be left behind was left with nothing but destruction and loss. There was no comfort to be found; only the overwhelming sense of the mess you were left with and how little help you were going to have in cleaning it up. Those overwhelming odds seemed to have kept most people in hiding.

Under the cover of night, Natasha brought the Quinjet down outside a quiet, suburban area. The streets were empty, which was just as eerie on the ground as it was in the air. The world was still trying to make sense of what happened to it. People were still mourning; still questioning. That was made apparent by the pictures of missing people, the flowers and candles dedicated to them, that were seen on just about every street corner. Sadness radiated from each one. Natasha could feel it as they passed by. It made her feel lucky, for once, that she didn't have family; no people "back home" to check in on. But then she remembered those that were gone, Sam, Wanda, Vision, Bucky and countless others, and she remembered that they were family. She remembered the life she and Steve were trying to build. She would've traded all the empty photographs in the world to have a chance at filling just one frame with that face. She wondered what it might have looked like. Steve's eyes? Natasha's hair? His or her father's kind smile? She would never know.

"So... what exactly are we looking for, here?" Carol asked. She was looking left and right as they walked down the quiet sidewalk. "These are just... houses."

"For the most part," Natasha said. "But this whole block was supposed to be S.H.I. . owned. They called it Area 14."

"What, is that, like... Area 51's distant cousin?" Carol asked.

Natasha couldn't help but chuckle at the joke. She cleared her throat and shook her head. "No relation," she said. "That I know of, anyway. Apparently, there were two families of doomsday preppers that were neighbors. When S.H.I.E.L.D. heard about the joint bunker they'd built beneath their houses, they offered to buy the space and send them somewhere twice as safe."

"And the families sold?" Steve asked. He seemed skeptical.

"Seems like it," Natasha said. Though, they could've refused, and S.H.I.E.L.D. could've come in and taken what they wanted, anyway. Some ugly truths like that had come out about the organization prior to its fall. They weren't the bright and shiny world protectors that they made themselves out to be. Not all of them, anyway. Natasha and Steve had learned that the hard way. She imagined a lot of other people did, as well. Still, there had been genuine men and women who did want to do good at the agency. Nick Fury, Agents Hill and Coulson, they were a few who fell into that category. You just had to take the bad with the good, Natasha supposed.

"I think this is it."

They came to a stop in front of two, single-story homes. They were ranch-style houses. The one of the left had old, tan siding and deep burgundy shutters that were in need of a paint job. The other house was red brick with white trim. There was nothing too exciting about either. The landscaping was generally nondescript, and the grass in both lawns was slightly taller than some of the other properties. That wasn't saying much, though. None of the homes on the block were in pristine condition. Their yards certainly weren't either. All in all, they were generally unremarkable homes. The kind that people would probably just walk right by and think nothing of. They were ghost towns even before the world had been turned into one.

"This?" Steve asked. "Doesn't look like much."

"Well," Natasha glanced over at him, "is that Steve Rogers judging a book by its cover? Never thought I'd see the day." She perked a brow and smirked a little.

Steve only shook his head, which was just the response she expected out of him. Natasha swiveled her green eyes over to Carol. The woman looked just as unsure. O, ye of little faith… Natasha thought with a grin. Saying nothing, she took a few steps closer toward the driveways. The addresses on the mailboxes read 1041 and 1043. The sum of their numbers? Fourteen. It wasn't the most clever trick Natasha had ever seen, but it was a nice touch. Once upon a time, someone had probably thought it ingenious.

"When S.H.I.E.L.D. collapsed," she said as she went to the first mailbox, "nobody really had time to terminate all protocols and procedures. They were all too busy trying to delete their browsing histories and cover their own asses to worry about anything else. I think… a lot of their systems are still in place." She lifted the plastic, red flag of the first mailbox and found nothing. So, she moved to the second and did the same. This revealed a small panel on the mailbox that slid aside to reveal a tiny, black square.

"Let's hope they didn't have enough time to wipe all their employee records." Natasha pressed her thumb to the square. A green light illuminated beneath it as her fingerprint was scanned. The light went away, and then... nothing happened. Natasha furrowed her brow, pulled her thumb away, and pressed it to the screen again. Nothing.

"Well, that was anticlimactic." She said.

The front door to the brick house swung open.

Natasha pulled her gun, Steve raised his shield; Carol fired up a fist.

But there was no one on the other side of the door. No swarm of robot drones or super powered guard dogs came running out to meet them. It was just more silence. It was almost more unsettling than if a swarm of armed soldiers had come barreling out toward them. Nat breathed a sigh of relief and holstered her weapon. She looked at the others and then nodded toward the house. She had every intention of leading the way in, but Steve took front before she could. Natasha didn't argue. She had been the one to push Steve back into action again. She couldn't be upset about him charging head first into potential danger. That had been his M.O. for as long as she'd known him. So, Nat simply followed him up the walkway to the porch. Carol stayed behind her, her head on a swivel.

It was dark inside the house. Some light from the streetlamps outside filtered in through the window, though, to provide some view. The place was fully furnished but completely empty. It was a model home, a cardboard cut-out to act as a front for something else. Natasha had seen this kind of thing plenty of time. Places that looked more like a movie set than a home. S.H.I.E.L.D. used them a lot. They'd used one on Steve Rogers, himself. Granted, Steve had seen through that facade pretty quickly, but Natasha suspected that had been the point all along.

They made their way through the living room and toward the kitchen. What appeared to be a basement door was situated to the right of the kitchen. Natasha knocked on it a few times.

"This definitely isn't wood." She noted. That led her to believe it was some type of reinforced steel, dressed up to look like a normal door. She tried the handle. Locked. There didn't seem to be anymore fingerprint scanners to put her thumb on, either.

"Here, let me try." Carol said. Natasha stepped aside. The Kree woman tilted her head to the side. Her right hand, clenched into a fist, came alive with bright, swirling flame. Carol lifted her arm and shot a stream of that energy right at the door. It crashed into the center of the door and sent it flying off its hinges and down the stairwell. Natasha winced at the amount of noise that was just made.

"Well," she said, "that's one way to do it."

"Go on," Steve said, nodding toward the stairwell. "I'll make sure we didn't wake the neighbors."

Natasha nodded and made her way downstairs. It was pitch black down there, none of the light from outside able to make its way into the lower level. Natasha was sliding her hands along the walls, looking for some kind of a switch, when Carol's hand flared to life again. Natasha turned to look at her, worried about what she was planning on blowing apart, next, but the woman just shrugged.

"Flashlight." She said.

Using that light, Natasha found a switch. She flipped it, and a row of fluorescent lights slowly illuminated, one by one, down the center of the ceiling. For all intents and purposes, it looked like they were just in one big basement. It spanned the length of the two homes pretty easily, but there were no signs that SHIELD had ever stored anything, here. They needed to go deeper. There had to be another door somewhere. Stairs or ladders or something that led downward. Natasha's keen eyes were pulled toward an industrial-sized washer and dryer. Neither one of them were attached to any sort of water or ventilation hookups. That seemed like an uncharacteristic oversight on SHIELD's part, but... maybe they never expected anyone to make it this far in. It was worth a shot.

Nat walked over to the machines. There was a fine, almost indiscernible crack in the concrete around them, and some scuff marks arching away from the wall. She allowed her hand to hover over the crack and was able to feel a small, cool current of air pushing out against her palm. She grabbed the edge of the dryer and gave it a good, hard pull. The washer, dryer, and the floor they were sitting on pulled away from the wall to reveal a hole in the ground beneath them. Lights turned on to show a ladder leading down. Natasha looked over her shoulder at Carol.

"I feel like there's some pun to be made here about dirty laundry…" Carol said.

Nat huffed a quiet chuckle out of her nose and descended the ladder. It was cold in the new level they found themselves in. It was the kind of cold that reminded Natasha of hospitals. Sterile and metallic. She walked down a narrow hall and turned right. The space opened up, more lights turned on, and Natasha found herself in exactly what she hoped she would. Rows upon rows of tech, machinery, weaponry, and everything in between were stacked neatly against the walls of the huge storage area. There were small screens on each unit that identified, sorted, and labeled everything that could be found on that section. Some things too big to store on a shelf were just sitting on the floor, occupying their own space; no labeling necessary.

"Wow," Carol remarked. "These guys were..."

"Overcompensating?" Natasha asked.

"I was gonna say thorough," Carol grinned. "But that works, too."

She followed Natasha through the rows of various products. If she knew what she was looking at, Carol didn't say. Natasha guessed that some of the alien-tech might be familiar to the woman, but she couldn't even begin to know where she'd gone in all of her travels.

"We could've used someone like you," Natasha said. "When... everything happened."

Carol frowned. "Yeah." She took a deep breath and sighed it out. "There are a lot of worlds out there. Not all of them had people like you to protect them."

Given how poorly things had gone with "people" like Natasha, Steve, and countless others trying their best to protect their home, Nat could only imagine how badly it'd been in other places. She pushed her lips to the side, thinking.

"It's personal, isn't it?" Carol's question interrupted her thoughts.

Natasha lifted her gaze to the other woman. "He killed billions of people," she said flatly. "Of course it's personal."

"No," Carol shook her head. "It's not just that. Your headquarters... it's like walking through a ghost town. Everyone's so..."

"Broken." Natasha said. "He didn't just snap his fingers and make half the world disappear. He did things before all that. Killed Thor's brother right in front of him. Sent his attack dogs after good people."

"And what about you?"

Natasha stopped. She turned to face Carol. The woman was inquisitive. Natasha usually didn't like that, but she didn't see malice in Carol's curiosity. She wanted to know what happened, here. She wanted to understand. Maybe she even wanted to relate a bit. Natasha didn't know what Carol's relationship with Fury had been like, but she knew what her own relationship with him had been like. She knew what it was like to lose a mentor. The only thing Natasha had on Carol was that she'd lost him twice.

She rolled her lower lip inward and caught it between her teeth for a moment. Her eyes took on a bit of a faraway look as she tilted her head to the side and gazed off into the distance a bit. "Some of us..." she said slowly. "Were trying to make a life. A new life. One that didn't involve fighting. We thought we had it, but..." Natasha looked down, her gaze dropping to her stomach. "Thanos took that, too."

She wasn't able to look back up at Carol, after that. She didn't want to meet her gaze, afraid she might see pity there. Natasha didn't want pity. She just wanted to make things right, or at least as right as she could make them. She'd already made peace with the fact that they might not get everything back, but some was better than none. She took a breath and started moving again, following data logs to a row of locked boxes. Carol enlisted her help in unlocking one of the boxes, melting through the lock pretty effortlessly with her powers. Natasha opened the box. Chitauri power cores were nestled safely in foam padding. They were small, blue orbs that emitted a gentle glow. Natasha gently grabbed one between her fingertips and plucked it from the case.

"Just one of these is enough to power a nuclear reactor," she said. "We should have more than enough to get to-"

A sudden and very loud sound behind them caused Natasha to jump. A pile of previously-presumed-useless metal fell off one of the shelves, followed by two, three; four more. They scraped noisily against the ground as they twisted and jerked this way and that. They were unfolding, Natasha realized. They grew larger and larger until five, crab-like masses of metal stood, hunched awkwardly in front of them. They had something like faces situated near their chests, with glowing red eyes that rolled all around.

"Uh... friends of yours?" Carol asked. She was already powering up her fists.

"I'm gonna err on the side of caution and say no." Natasha said.

Nat reached behind her and retrieved her metal batons. She knocked them against one another and fired up the electrical charge inside of them. The metal things launched themselves forward, toward the two women. Carol knocked one away with a fiery blast and then leaped to the side to avoid a second. Natasha blocked a blade-like arm with one baton and smashed her other one into the thing's face... if that's what you wanted to call it. The charge short-circuited it for a second, causing one of its eyes to glitch and its body to convulse on one side. It swiped at her from the other side, though she was able to hop back and out of the way without harm. Natasha screwed the batons together to form one, long staff. Best to keep these things at a distance, she decided.

"How many of those boxes do we need?!" Carol called over the sound of metal and her own power blasting through it.

"As many as we can take!" Natasha said as she blocked another attack. She shoved the end of her staff into a red eyeball and sent another pulse of electricity through it. The crab-like monstrosity went flying back into a shelf before hitting the ground. It twitched a few times before some sparks and smoke flew out of it. Then, it's eyes dimmed, and it stopped moving. She looked over to Carol to see how she was doing. The woman was currently tied up with two of those things. Natasha moved to help her, but Carol shouted:

"Behind you!"

Nat spun around too late. The metal mess was close. Too close. It moved to impale her with a metal arm, but it met vibranium, instead. Steve launched his shield at the thing hard enough to send its whole body off-course. It staggered to the side several steps. Steve caught his shield and, before the thing could right itself, he threw himself at it and drove the pointed edge of the shield into its face. More sparks and smoke flew, and when Steve booted it off of his shield and away from both of them, it was little more than scrap metal. Natasha looked at him, a bit breathless.

"I leave you alone for five minutes..." He said with a little smirk.

With little time for thank you's, Natasha ran over to the metal boxes, instead. She tossed one to Steve, another to Carol, and grabbed one for herself.

"Get topside," Carol said as she blasted one of the things in the face. "I'll make sure these things stay down."

Steve kneed one of them, and Natasha followed it up by driving the end of her staff into its face. Then, they ran for the ladder. Carol was behind them, making sure that anything else down there stayed down there. They got up to the basement, slid the heavy concrete cover back in place, and then ran back upstairs. Natasha would've liked to close the door, but Carol had blasted it off its hinges. Apparently, that didn't mean anything to Carol. The woman grabbed the dented door and carried it up the steps with one hand like it was nothing. She leaned it precariously back into place and then melted it to the door frame as best she could. After that, the three of them left the house and headed for the Quinjet.

Things outside were oddly quiet, as if no one had any clue what was going on in that bunker. That, Steve soon revealed, was because there was no one there. Either they'd all packed up and left, or S.H.I.E.L.D. had bought out the whole block and no one had bothered to try coming back.

When they were back on the Quinjet with the spoils of their labor, Natasha got them back up in the air. She could hear Carol laughing as she looked out the window. She had a flavor for excitement, that was for sure. Steve came to stand beside Natasha, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"You good?" He asked.

Good, Natasha thought, was an understatement. For the first time since Wakanda, she felt... alive. Like she hadn't been carried away in the wind with the others. Like she was still able to go out there and accomplish something. Defeat did not define her. Natasha looked up at Steve, a small smile on her face. "Yeah," she said. "I'm great."


	11. What Was Lost

The flight home was uneventful, but Steve could tell something was up the second HQ came into view. Banner was standing outside, near the landing zone, hands tucked in his pockets and face turned toward the sky. He lifted one hand to shield his eyes from the blaring lights of the jet, its engines kicking up a wind that tossed his dark curls around carelessly. It was a little odd to see him playing welcome party, but maybe he was curious to see what they'd discovered at Area 14. Steve glanced over to Natasha in the pilot's chair. From the look on her face, she was concerned, too. She brought the aircraft down, quieted the thrusters and killed the engines. Carol carried their shipment off the jet.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Bruce asked first.

"We think so," Carol handed one of the cases over. To Steve's surprise, Bruce didn't open it.

"What's wrong?" The Captain asked.

"We picked up a distress signal," Bruce said as he led them back inside. "It came in about two hours ago, timestamped two days ago."

"Why didn't you call us?" Steve asked. He couldn't help but to feel a bit frustrated.

"I wasn't sure that it was anything at first," Bruce said as he hem inside. "I didn't want to interrupt the mission." He headed into the lab, where Rhodey was standing in front of a holographic projection of the Milky Way galaxy.

"It came from one of the spiral arms," Bruce said.

"Which one?" Carol asked.

Banner seemed surprised by the question, but he answered it anyway. "Uh, the Cygnus arm." He pointed to an arching pathway of gas and starlight far from the galaxy's nucleus. Then, the doctor turned toward Steve. He was holding a pen and tapping it nervously against his opposite palm.

"Steve, we... we think it might be Tony."

Steve felt a pit harden and drop in his stomach. No one had, had so much as a clue where Tony was since he was carried away on an alien spaceship. If he was out there all this time and they were only now picking up a signal from him… He felt another wave of frustration over not having been told this sooner. Time was precious, here.

"We need to find a way out there," Steve said.

"The jet won't be equipped to make that kind of a trip for... days. Weeks, maybe." Bruce said. "We can't get that far."

"I can." Carol said simply. When Steve looked at her, she nodded and shrugged, as if it were no big deal. He'd only seen some of what she could do, but if the real thing was anything like those glimpses he'd seen, he had every bit of faith in her. He nodded.

"Pull up the coordinates of that signal again." The Kree woman said. Banner obliged, and she punched them into the device in the wrist of her suit. Without hesitation, she headed for the exit. Steve followed, Natasha, Bruce and Rhodey close behind him. They stood just outside the building while Carol fired up her powers. She was illuminated, enveloped head to toe in a flame of swirling yellows, blues and whites. Her eyes took on an otherworldly glow as she glanced at them one last time.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," she said. Then, she launched herself upward and, in a huge blast of power, jetted into the atmosphere.

The others watched her go for a few seconds, eyes turned toward the heavens. Anxiousness and timid hope warred with each other inside Steve's chest. He thought about all of the possible outcomes of Carol's return. The distress call was put out two days ago. That was two more days Tony might have been going without food; without water. There was a chance Carol would be bringing back a corpse. A shell once hosting one of the greatest minds Steve had ever known. He furrowed his brow and allowed his gaze to fall to the more immediate horizon. The darkness was thick, and the silence was deafening.

"So, what now?" He heard Banner ask.

"Now, we wait." Came Natasha's calm reply. She was steady on the surface, but Steve couldn't help but wonder if, beneath all that, she was just as nervous as he was. He looked over his shoulder to dare a glance. Her green eyes settled upon him, her full lips pressed in a firm line. She said nothing but gave one, single nod. A nod that Steve returned as he let his eyes drop once more and his head turn forward.

"We keep working," he said. He turned around to face the others. "Banner, see what you can do with those power cells we found. We'll help however we can."

Bruce nodded, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "Alright, well," he sighed, "let's see what we're working with."

Once more, they headed inside. Steve walked beside Natasha, the two of them falling in line behind Rhodey and Bruce. They didn't speak. They didn't have to. Every single one of them worried about the same things. Tony's safety and the safety of whoever was with him. It'd been discovered that he wasn't alone when he took that ride. He'd been in pursuit of a Doctor Stephen Strange, a man that was in possession of the Time Stone and, thus, kidnapped for it. Peter Parker, Stark's web-slinging protege from Queens, was on the spacecraft, too. He was just a kid. He had no business being on that ship, but he hadn't had any business being at the airport in Germany, either. He proved his worth, there. Steve just hoped the kid had it in him to prove it again.

The following hours were tense. Everyone did their best to occupy their time wisely; try not to think too hard on the obvious. Bruce was hard at work running diagnostics on the power sources they'd taken from Area 14. Rhodey took it upon himself to call Pepper. If there was a chance it was his best friend they found out there, he figured he should shoulder the responsibility of telling Pepper. Steve helped with some heavy lifting here and there, but other than that, there wasn't much for him to do. Natasha, either. She'd slipped away about an hour ago and headed to the shooting range, to work through some stress, no doubt. They all had it, and they were all dealing with it in their own ways. Steve unconsciously kept turning his eyes to the sky, glancing out each window he passed to see if that familiar light was returning. Each time, he saw only darkness overhead. Pepper arrived around four in the morning. Thor and his talking raccoon companion, Rocket, arrived shortly after. Steve wasn't sure who'd contacted them- he wasn't even sure where they'd been- though he guessed it might have been Natasha.

Dawn was approaching when Carol returned.

The woman appeared, a speck of light beneath an aircraft Steve had never seen before. It wasn't until she got closer that he realized she was carrying the thing. Everyone rushed outside as she lowered the foreign craft, birdlike and aerodynamic in design, gently to the ground. She powered down and stood aside as the loading dock released with a pressurized hiss and lowered to the ground. Steve took a few, careful; terrified steps forward. He swallowed the lump in his throat and clenched his jaw tightly, steeling himself to whatever it was they were about to find.

Two, thin figures appeared at the top of the ramp. They were silhouetted in shadows, one's arm looped around the shoulders of the other, until they slowly made their way down. A woman, or at least what appeared to be a woman, with blue skin and a patchwork of metallic implants in her face and hands, was escorting a pale, skeletal creature down the ramp. The light in his chest shone dimly beneath his shirt. His face was gaunt, features sunken in, eyes struggling to stay open.

"Tony."

Steve moved to the ramp and intercepted his old friend. He felt as light as a feather as he looped Stark's other arm over his own, broad shoulders.

"I lost him," were the first words Tony murmured. "I lost the kid..." His eyes opened a little wider and rolled over to Steve. They stared at him so hard it was like they were staring into the depths of his soul. Steve didn't know what to say. He was thrilled to have Tony back, alive, but the sight of him... it was a lot to take in. And he could only assume that it was Peter that Tony was talking about. Tony had taken him under his wing; treated him as his own. Now, he was gone. Like so many others.

"_We_ lost, Tony…" Steve said, making no attempt to hide the sadness in his voice.

"Where..." Tony began. "Pepper, is she..."

Pepper stepped in front of the others. She saw Tony. A laugh bubbled into a cry, which bubbled into sobs as she approached. Steve and the blue-skinned woman released their hold on Tony, who somehow managed to stand on his own long enough to wrap his arms around Pepper and embrace her tightly. Steve looked away, unable to face the sounds of their tears. He stared, hard, at the ground as the pair had their long-awaited reunion. It could only last so long, though. Tony was unable to stand on his own. He started to go down, but was immediately grabbed by Rhodey. Someone had rolled out a wheelchair. Steve helped Rhodey lower Tony into it, Rhodey speaking calm assurances to his friend the entire time.

"We gotcha, buddy." He said as he started to push the chair towards the building. "We gotcha."

Steve turned around to see the blue-skinned woman sitting on the end of the loading ramp. She wasn't alone. Rocket was sitting beside her, his head hung in sadness.

"They know each other," Natasha said beside Steve. "She's one of the daughters he was telling us about. Nebula."

One of Thanos's daughters.

Guilty by association was never a verdict Steve would jump to. He could see that Nebula was in pain; that she'd lost, just like the rest of them. He could also see that she was an outsider, here. She remained by the aircraft while most everyone else had gone inside. He looked at her for a few seconds longer before turning his gaze to Nat.

"Go on," he told her. He knew she wanted to be in there with the rest of them. With Tony. "I'm right behind you."

She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a soft, sad smile before she went back in.

Steve took a deep breath in through his nose, inflating his chest and lungs and burning his throat with cold air. He released it all in a heavy sigh. He walked back over to the aircraft and came to a stop in front of the loading ramp. Rocket and Nebula both turned their gazes up toward him. Nebula's black eyes were hard, her demeanor defensive. She tensed when he extended a hand toward her.

"My name's Steve," he said. "I... can't imagine what you've been through. But you're among friends now. You're safe here."

Nebula glanced at Rocket, who nodded. She hesitated a moment, but ultimately took Steve's hand. "Nebula," she said.

Steve shook her hand and then pulled her to her feet. "Come on in, Nebula."

The act seemed to both surprise and confuse the woman. Even after Steve released her hand and started heading in, she stood there and just stared at him. He could feel her gaze on his back. He heard Rocket say something to her, though, and soon, they were both following him inside.

Steve felt like he was being slowly buried beneath a mountain of things that needed fixed, and he had no idea where to begin. Being inside, together, seemed as good a place to start as any. Rocket seemed to know Nebula well enough to know what she'd need, and the gun-toting raccoon took it upon himself to take care of her. Banner was already hooking Tony up to IV fluids. Natasha was helping Pepper make some food for him. They were all working as a unit; one, well-oiled machine that went off without a hitch. Except for Steve. He felt like a stubborn cog in the middle of it all, standing idle and refusing to move. Useless. After everything that happened, Steve thought that he would be impossible to phase, but seeing Tony like this was... well, it rattled Cap. It rattled him to his core.

Steve always thought of Tony as a man who couldn't be beaten. But now... Thanos didn't just beat him. He broke him. That was a feeling Steve could relate to.

An hour or so later, Tony was sitting at the table in one of the main conference rooms, an untouched bowl of oatmeal in front of him. Everyone was there. The room felt crowded, despite its size. Steve wasn't used to having everyone together, but it felt right. They were all there for one reason. Everyone always looked to Steve for direction, but Tony was the true leader of this group. The one who started it all. If they could have followed him on that strange spaceship into the sky, they would have. They were here for him now, though. That much was obvious.

"What happened up there, man?" Rhodey was brave enough to be the one to ask.

"We lost." Came Tony's cold reply. He pushed the oatmeal around in the bowl with his spoon, staring at it as if he was watching paint dry.

"We lost, too," Steve reminded him.

That lifted Tony's dark eyes onto him. "I recall us supposing to have done that together," Stark said.

"Tony-" Pepper began but was promptly ignored.

"No, I mean, that was the plan, right _Cap?" _His voice carried a sharp edge to it that cut deep. "So what happened, huh? While you and Romanoff were off playing the Bonnie and Clyde routine, what happened?! What happened to protecting the _world?_"

"Tony," Rhodey said from beside his friend. "Come on, man. You need to relax."

"What I need," Tony swatted the bowl away and stood up, sending it crashing and spilling its contents on the floor, "is to get out of this damn chair! I need-" He started to stumble but was quickly supported by Rhodey. He was trying to get Tony to sit back down. Tony had other plans.

Steve watched at Tony grabbed the reactor on his chest and violently yanked it off. "Here!" He threw the reactor on the table. It landed with a loud clang. "This is what you wanted, right?! Only thing I was ever _good _for, right, Rogers?"

"Tony, _please!" _Pepper had tears in her eyes.

So did Nat. She turned and walked briskly out of the room, just as Tony was collapsing, exhausted, back into his chair.

Steve said nothing. He stood, jaw clenched and arms folded across his chest, as Rhodey and Pepper wheeled Tony out of the room. Bruce followed closely behind. When they were gone, Steve's gaze fell to the table. The reactor sat among a mess of spilled oatmeal, glowing dimly. The faint hum coming from it was the only sound in an otherwise silent room. Everyone seemed frozen, unsure of what to say or do.

"Everyone should get some rest." Steve said, his tone a bit distant. "It's been a long day."

Steve decided to try and see where Natasha had gone off to. It took some searching, but he found the former spy outside, sitting on the steps out front. She had her arms wrapped around her legs, but quickly sat up straight, sniffling, when Steve approached. She hastily wiped a few tears from her cheeks and looked up at him. She flashed a shaky smile that she was fully aware did not fool him. Steve took a seat next to her and released a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry," he said as he gazed out at the trees. "That was unfair."

"Was it?" Natasha said. When Steve looked at her, she continued. "I mean, he's right. Maybe... if we'd been there..."

"No." Steve wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. "Nat, we can't let this, or anything else, make us regret what we were trying to do. We can't... disrespect the memory of..." His throat tightened a bit, keeping him from continuing. He shook his head and released another sigh.

"We had to try," he said. "We deserved that much."

They were silent for a few minutes. Natasha would sniffle every now and again, the only sign that let Steve know she might still be shedding some tears. He let her, not drawing attention to it. The wave would pass. It always did, but he would stay there with her until it did, however long it took. It wasn't very long. Eventually, Nat was lifting her head from his shoulder and looking at him. Her green eyes were watery and red-ringed. Tired.

"It's tough seeing him like that, you know?" She turned her face forward once more.

"Yeah," Steve agreed, "but he'll bounce back. He's too damn stubborn not to."

"Mm," Natasha nodded, a small smile on her face. It wasn't much, but it pulled a bit of a grin from Steve.

"Come on," he told her. He slid his arm from around her shoulders, stood up, and offered her a hand. "I think we've earned at least a couple hours of sleep."

Natasha took his hand, and he helped her to her feet. Before he released his grip, though, Steve lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss against her knuckles. Natasha accepted the gesture with a smile and a roll of her green eyes. She liked to make fun of him, sometimes, for these "old fashioned" displays, but he knew she appreciated them, nonetheless. He released her hand and turned to open the door for her, allowing her to lead the way inside.

Tony would be resting for awhile, Steve hoped. He hoped that everyone else would be, too. Between Area 14 and the news about Tony, everything had just sort of blurred together. He hadn't even changed out of his gear. Natasha hadn't either. It took some time, but eventually he was able to lay his head down and get some shuteye. It was made a little easier by the familiar warmth curled up beside him. Steve held her close and drifted off into darkness.


	12. Too Little Too Late

It took several days to get Tony back up to speed, physically, mentally; the whole kit and caboodle. Things were tense around the base. Stark had been throwing a lot of "I told you so's" around, and it was causing mixed reactions. He was adamant in his claim that all of this could've been prevented if they'd just _listened _to him. They could've protected the world; they could've stopped Thanos and his fleet from ever reaching it, but hindsight was always 20/20, wasn't it? Natasha had stopped keeping count of all the things she _should have _done differently in the past. All the decisions she _should have _made. Recounting one's failures was never a good way to move past them, and everyone here had failed, in some way or another. Whether it was failing to listen to one another, or failing to beat Thanos on whatever playing field they'd met him, it didn't matter. They'd lost. The best thing to do was to get up, wipe the dirt off your face, and try again.

That's exactly what they were going to do.

Tony's intelligence was a monumental addition to the operation they were running. He worked with Bruce, Carol and Rocket, and together, they devised a way to track Thanos based on the global catastrophes he was causing. They discovered that the use of the gauntlet sent out powerful shock waves, with Thanos at the epicenter. They tracked where he used the gauntlet while they prepared a ship to take them into space. Not the Quinjet, though. That idea was scrapped the second Rocket and Nebula deemed the new ship- the one Tony and Nebula arrived on that was, apparently, named "Benetar"- capable of being repaired and restored to proper flying shape. Rocket proved to be just as adept at engineering as Tony, so the mechanics didn't all rely on Stark. That was good. He was far from top shape, and even if he would never admit it in a million years, he needed all the help he could get. So, while some built, others watched, keeping a close eye on the signatures on the map until...

The signatures were gone.

One day, they just... stopped. And they didn't start again. Natasha was terrified for what that might mean.

"It's too late," Thor surmised as they all stood, huddled over an intergalactic map and waiting for it to do... _something. _"He's accomplished his goal. Finished what he set out to do..."

"So, now what?" Rhodey asked, incredulous. "He retires to a nice, sunny planet far, far away and sips pina coladas on a beach for the rest of his life?"

"Not a beach..." Nebula's voice sounded from the back of the room. Everyone turned around to see her, leaning against a table, a faraway look in her black eyes. "When we were children, father would speak often of his plan. He swore his success would be followed by a long rest."

"Where?" Natasha asked.

"The farm." Nebula said simply. She pushed off the table and took a few steps forward. "I can take us there."

There was uncertainty in her demeanor. Fear. Was she afraid of facing her father, or was she afraid of seeing him die? It seemed he had been nothing but cruel and inhumane to Nebula, but Natasha had to wonder if, somewhere, she still harbored love for her father. She wondered if, when push came to shove, they would be able to rely on her to make the right choice. If they were going to take the fight to Thanos, with all six stones, they would need everything to go absolutely right. Betrayal would not be the key to success. But neither would hostility. She decided it would be best to give Nebula the benefit of the doubt; to trust her. She'd earned that much. If that trust proved to be misplaced, they would handle her.

"When can we go?" Steve asked.

"Ship should be ready in another couple days," Rocket replied.

"Let's get to it, then." Steve gave a nod and stepped away from the table.

"What's to say we should be doing this at all?" Rhodey chimed in. "I mean... he's got all six stones. We see what he's been doing with them. Damage is done. Why should we risk doing more?"

"If there's any chance that we can get the stones," Natasha said, "we owe it to everyone who's not in this room to try." She looked around at the others. She could see the loss reflected in each of their eyes. There wasn't a person here who hadn't lost someone important to them in the snap. Silence stretched over them for a few seconds, but eventually there were nods of agreement.

"Rest up, train up; do what you need to do to get ready," Steve said. "We're gonna have to throw everything we've got at the son of a bitch."

Eventually, everyone began to branch off. They would all prepare in their own way. Tony would, undoubtedly, be working tirelessly with Rocket to perfect the Benetar. He'd regained some strength over the last several days. He wasn't at full capacity, and wouldn't be making the trip with them to take on Thanos, but he would still help how he could. Natasha's own preparations happened in the sparring room, the shooting range, and anywhere else she could hone those finely crafted killing skills she'd acquired throughout her life. Steve joined her on the mats more often than not. He would never throw the full force of his enhanced strength at her, she knew, but he gave her the respect of full effort.

"So, space, huh?" She commented as she threw an elbow at him.

He deflected with a forearm and jabbed a right first at her. "First time for everything, I guess."

Natasha leaned into a back flip, avoiding the punch and bringing up a foot toward his face. "Think you can handle all that?" She came back up on two feet. "I mean, you've never even been on a roller coaster."

Steve caught her wrist and twisted her arm out to the side. "Hilarious," he said. "I've been on the one on Coney Island more times than I can count."

"Was that before or after the 21st century?" Natasha twisted out of the hold, bringing herself behind Steve, where she planted a foot in the back of his knee. His leg buckled, and he went down to one knee.

Steve reached behind him, grabbed Natasha's arm, and flipped her over his shoulder. She landed on her back on the mat in front of him with a heavy _thump. _"I swear, your jokes never get old." He said.

She looked up at him, smiling from her upside down view. "I guess you have that in common with them."

He shook his head, smiled at her, and helped her to her feet. He held her hand a little too long and stood a little too close, just like always, and, just like always, Natasha found great comfort in that. She might not admit to or even allude to that face, but she did. She had shown a thousand faces to a thousand people. Some of them were loved; some of them hated. Steve was one of the first people she showed her _true _face to. No masks, no tricks; just her and all of her flaws, and he loved her anyway. For the millionth time, Natasha found herself thanking her lucky stars that Steve wasn't one of the ones lost in the snap. It was a selfish thought that always spurred guilt, but she had no idea what she would do if she lost him.

"I think that's enough for today," she said as she released his hand. She turned and started heading out. "Think I'll hit the showers." Natasha looked over her shoulder. "Feel free to join." She winked, cast one last smirk at Steve, and left the room.

Two days later, they were ready for travel.

The group traveling to Thanos's farm was Rocket, Nebula, Rhodey, Carol, Bruce, Thor, Steve and Natasha. Bruce was still operating the Hulk buster suit that Tony had designed, as the green guy had yet to make any appearances. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing. Rocket and Nebula were piloting the ship. The feisty raccoon was giving details on what it would be like to make the "jumps" that would take them to their destination and very passionately warning everyone against throwing up on his ship. Natasha looked over at Steve from her seat near the back. He looked apprehensive. She could understand that. She was, too. Every so often, in these times of apprehension or in the need for deep reflection, he would get out that old compass with Peggy's picture in it and just look at it. Now was one of those times. Natasha didn't think too much of it. Peggy was gone. Natasha respected her memory and the role she'd played in Steve's life once upon a time.

"It's gonna work, Steve." She told him softly.

He furrowed his brow and looked over at her. "I know," he said, "because I don't know what I'm gonna do if it doesn't."

Natasha frowned, reached over, and squeezed his arm. He offered her an appreciative smile before sliding the compass back into the pocket of his pants. Before much longer, they were taking off. The ship zoomed off the base at speeds faster than the Quinjet could ever hope to reach, and before they knew it, they were soaring above Earth's atmosphere. Natasha kept her head pressed back against her seat to avoid whiplash and prayed that she didn't lose her stomach as the ship made the "jump" that Rocket had told them about. There was some kind of portal up ahead. It swirled with strange colors and lights that Natasha had never seen before. They were moving toward it at speeds she could never hope to comprehend. There was an intense pulling and some pressure, and then all of the sudden, it was gone.

The ship emerged out the other side of the jump and came to a complete stop, floating idly in the vast vacuum of space. Before them was a huge, green planet with swirls of blue, brown and purple. It was unlike anything Natasha had ever seen. She leaned forward in her seat to get a better view as Carol powered up and exited the ship to do some recon. She glanced over at Steve to see his blue eyes focusing intently on the huge globe before them. His expression reminded her that this was no time to be taking in the sights. They were here for a fight.

After a few minutes, Carol returned, hovering in front of the ship. "There's nothing," she told them. "No guards, no satellites; no security. Seems like he's alone."

"Then let's use it," Steve said.

Rocket and Nebula followed Carol, bringing the ship down in a field of strange crops a few clicks away from some crude-looking hut. The plan was to send Carol in first, hot and loud. She'd hit Thanos hard; catch him off-guard. Bruce and Rhodey would go in next, subduing his arms, and Thor would come in for the kill. The rest would fall in after. They stuck to that plan; adhered to it perfectly, really. Carol flew in the front and tackled Thanos into a headlock. Bruce in the Hulk buster suit same in next, grabbing Thanos's glove hand while Rhodey busted in from the other side in his Warmachine suit and grabbed the tyrant's other arm.

Finally, it was Thor's turn.

The god of thunder came in like a storm and delivered a devastating blow that severed Thanos's gloved hand from his body. The mad titan cried out in pain as his severed arm tumbled heavily to the ground. The others swarmed in, next. Rocket moved quickly to the glove. He turned it over.

The stones were gone.

Panic gripped Natasha's gut like a vice. It squeezed and twisted and made it difficult to breathe. She took a few, hurried steps closer to get a better look. The light in the hut was dim. Maybe she was just not seeing things correctly. But, as she got closer, she knew. It was true. She stood, wide-eyed, staring at the lifeless gauntlet and the empty spots that once held the brightly glowing stones. Now, it was nothing more than a dented up piece of scrap metal.

No... this wasn't how it was supposed to go. This was wrong. This was _all _wrong.

Steve looked at the empty gauntlet and then slid a cold gaze to Thanos. "Where are they?"

The mad titan said nothing.

Carol squeezed her arm tighter around his throat. "Answer the question." She growled through gritted teeth.

"They're gone," Thanos heaved. "I used the stones to destroy the stones."

"You're lying," Natasha said, even though she knew full well that he wasn't. She'd made a life of reading people; telling when they were being honest and when they weren't. She was a master manipulator, herself, and she could tell now, clear as day, that Thanos was telling the truth.

"The deed was done," Thanos said. "And I knew, as long as they were in existence, there would always be the risk of someone like _you _coming to undo it. They served no purpose other than temptation and trouble. So, I destroyed them."

Thanos's weak state suddenly became clear. Even before being hit by Carol and the others, he was different. He was slow. He hadn't even put up a fight. The gauntlet was marred, as if burnt and bent by a powerful flame. The skin of his arm, traveling all the way up to his shoulder and the side of his face was burnt and mangled. Thanos was weak, even before they'd severed his arm. Whatever he'd done to destroy the stones had come at great cost to him, too. Rhodey released the titan's other arm, and Carol threw him to the ground in anger and disgust. Thanos, on his hands and knees, began to cough. Then, his cough bubbled into laughter. He slowly looked up at them.

"This was the universe's fate. My calling. I told you, I am-"

Thor brought his axe down with all his might and decapitated Thanos.

Natasha's eyes widened in surprise as she watched the tyrant's head hit the ground and go rolling. Shocked silence filled the room. Thor stood, vacantly staring at the headless body as it fell to the ground.

"Wha... what did you do?" Rocket asked.

Thor didn't look at him. He didn't look at any of them. "I went for the head," he said. Then, he walked out of the hut.

Natasha felt her eyes sting. Her vision became a blurry view of the headless titan, and his daughter, kneeling by his corpse. She watched Nebula reach forward and close Thanos's eyes. One by one, the others slowly started to leave the hut, but Natasha didn't move. She couldn't. This was their one chance to right the tremendous wrong that had been done, not only to their world but countless others, and they were too late. They failed. Her breathing started to pick up, her body trembling slightly with the pain that wracked her very soul. How? How could this happen? They'd done everything right. This was supposed to have worked.

"Nat..." Steve wrapped his fingers around her wrist. She barely felt the pressure of his touch. "Natasha."

Natasha blinked and slowly turned her head to look at him.

"Come on. Let's go."

The Black Widow allowed herself to be led outside. Her legs felt weak. She felt like she wasn't even in control of her own body. It moved without her telling it to, one foot stepping in front of the other without thought. She stared at Steve's back without really seeing. She felt numb; mindless. The world seemed to turn and tilt all around her. Eventually, they made it back to the ship. Steve fell into his seat with a heavy sigh, and Natasha practically melted into hers. One by one, the others returned to the ship until, finally, they were all on board. Silently, Rocket and Nebula got them airborne. Silently, they made their way home.

There was a huge, gaping emptiness inside of Natasha that threatened to swallow her whole. It only became bigger when they returned to base and Steve, without a word, left her standing outside. She watched him go further and further away before disappearing inside, and she wondered if he knew she wasn't behind him. She wondered if he cared. Something had broken inside of him. It'd broken inside all of them. Maybe they were back to that emptiness from before. Before they'd been stupid enough to allow themselves to hope. Natasha swallowed her fear and walked inside.

She found Steve in their room. He was still in his gear. He was... packing a bag.

Natasha stood in the doorway, staring at him with confused green eyes. Her throat closed up a bit as a strange mixture of anger and sadness welled up inside of her. "Wh...what are you doing?" She asked. She hated herself for how weak she sounded.

Steve turned around. His hardened expression softened only slightly when he saw her. It rolled into disappointment. It cut into her like a knife that threatened to tear her in two. He didn't say anything; just looked away and shoved a few more things into his bag. When he was finished, he slung it over his shoulder and turned to face her.

"I just... I need some time." He said.

"Time?" Natasha gawked. "Time for what?"

"To... think. To figure this out, to... to get my head right."

"What happened to doing those things together?" Natasha asked. Her sadness, her shock, was slowly rolling over into anger. She could feel it nipping at her heels, wanting to climb up her back and wrap itself around her shoulders. It gave some bite to her voice that she hadn't intended. That Widow's bite, always there; always lingering just below the surface, it would seem. It was always ready to spring into action and remind her how stupid she was for letting anyone close to her, because, in the end, everyone left.

Steve sighed. "We will," he said in a voice that was all but convincing. He stepped closer and slid his fingers around the back of Natasha's neck. He closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I love you," he murmured against her forehead. "I'm sorry."

Then, he let her go. Natasha stood, glued in place, unable to even turn around and watch him leave.


	13. Second Chances

Steve Rogers had never "resigned" to anything a day in his life. No quitting, no giving up, even as a scrawny kid from Brooklyn- a hundred pounds soaking wet, and that was being generous- he'd never known when to stop. If he listened to the world every time it tried to tell him to put on the brakes, he would have never amounted to anything. He'd lost count of all the obstacles that tried to hold him down, hold him back, throughout the years. He'd lost more than most people, but he kept going. He always kept going.

So, why did he feel like such a hypocrite telling other people to do that, now?

He'd been coming to these group sessions for awhile, now. Leading them, really. He told himself it was for Sam, to honor him by keeping his good work alive, but Steve knew the truth. He needed these meetings just as much as everyone else did. He needed to lament, to regret, to talk about the things that were messed up and the hope, however small it may be, that those things wouldn't be messed up forever.

One of the group members had gone out on a date last night. First one in five years. It hadn't gone well, but they were going out again tomorrow night. It must've been better than being alone.

"I lost the love of my life when I went down in that ice," Steve said. "And I woke up in a world I didn't understand with no one to not understand it with me. I thought that was it for me. But I..." He sighed and looked at the ground for a second. "It wasn't. You gotta keep moving forward. Make the best of life with the ones who are in it with you. Sometimes that's all you can do."

But it'd been five years since the snap and their botched attempt to undo it. The streets were still waste-filled ghost towns, and the people were still just barely learning how to cope. So, what could they _really _hope to accomplish here? And who was he, to even remotely _mention _Nat, when he hadn't seen her in days? Natasha, who _was _trying to accomplish something. She was running some semblance of a legitimate operation, keeping tabs all over the world, all over the solar system, really. She was trying, and what did she get for it? She got Steve, drifting in and out like a ghost, roaming into the city under the guise of going to help others when really he was just looking for a way to help himself. She got being alone while she tried to hold everyone and everything else together. It wasn't fair. She deserved more than that.

"Sometimes it's okay to go back, too." Someone else said. "Retrace your steps. See what you did wrong; what you did right. Fix things."

Fix things. But what if you were so hung up over the things that you couldn't fix that you broke the one thing in your life that had been left intact? Being unable to move forward is what had driven a wedge between Steve and Natasha in the first place. So, would going back really serve any purpose, now?

"I think we all at least deserve to try." Another person said.

And why not? After what they'd been through? They deserved happiness, right?

He'd be damned if the Brooklyn bridge wasn't beautiful that evening. The sun was setting as he drove across it, casting the skeleton that was Manhattan in the pink and orange glow of dusk. All that color was impossible to ignore. They didn't get to see too much of it anymore. Maybe it meant something. Steve didn't know how much he believed in "signs", but if he did... this seemed like it might be a good one.

The HQ building was just as much a ghost town as everything else. It was all but abandoned, now, with Natasha as its sole inhabitant. Thor had gone to help settle his people into a new life here on earth. Bruce left to "find himself". Rhodey, Rocket and Carol had been moving about, doing what they could to help others and reporting back in to Natasha when they could. Tony and Pepper had left a long time ago, to get back to their lives and each other. It seemed they had made the right call. They'd gotten married, had a beautiful little girl. They did all the things Steve and Natasha could have been doing, if he hadn't been such a damn idiot.

Steve felt his nerves start to rattle as he drove through the gates. What was he going to say? "I'm sorry" seemed like the understatement of the century. He knew what it did to her when he left that day, all those years ago. He'd come back, of course, but things hadn't been the same. He knew how that abandonment hurt her, and though he tried to tell himself that his reasons were good, Steve knew that there was no reason worth that. After all they'd been through? After what they became to one another? There was no excuse for what he did. He'd tried to make it right before, but things just never seemed to quite work out. Natasha held so tightly to whatever "mission" she had her sights on that she didn't seem to see anything else, and Steve… Steve had just wanted to forget.

Steve walked into near silence. The automatic doors whirred quietly open and closed, doing little to announce his arrival. He didn't know if that was a good thing or not. He made his way through the main hall, then right and up the flight of stairs that led to the catwalk facing the huge window overlooking the treeline. As he walked, he could hear muffled voices coming from one of the conference rooms. They got a little louder as he got closer.

"...last sighting was down in Mexico." It sounded like Rhodey. "Cleaning up some cartel, from the looks of it. There wasn't much left of them."

"Let me know where he turns up next," Natasha said. Her voice sounded strained. It was tired; raspy. It made Steve's chest tighten painfully.

"Nat, maybe it's best if-"

"Just let me know, okay?"

Steve walked in just as the projection of Rhodey was disappearing. Steve appeared in the space behind it, pulling a brief moment of wide-eyed surprise from Natasha. She sat in a chair at the far end of a large table littered with papers and trash. A half-eaten sandwich sat on a plate in front of her. Her long red hair had yet to grow out all of the blonde, and some if it still remained at the ends. She looked as tired as she sounded, and despite the mask she tried to immediately put on upon seeing him, Steve could see the tears shimmering in her green eyes. Had they been there before, or were they for him? Did it matter?

Natasha cleared her throat and blinked away the wetness in her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Steve felt every bit as nervous and woefully unprepared as he did the first time he told Nat how he felt for her. He felt a bit awkward as he stood there under the intense scrutiny of her sharp gaze. He could've brought flowers, but Natasha Romanoff was not a woman for gifts where words were needed. She wasn't someone to be buttered up or bought off. She could read through all that, anyway. She could see down to the very core of your character and know you sometimes better than you knew yourself.

"I... wanted to see how you were doing." It was a truthful enough response.

Nat lifted one shoulder in a shrug. She slid down in her chair a little more, arms folded across her chest. "I'm fine. Save any wayward souls today?" She asked, her pain thinly covered by bitterness.

"You know," Steve took a few more steps into the room, "it's kinda funny, in the group sessions we spend all this time talking about moving on-"

"Isn't that what you're doing?" She asked quickly.

"No." Steve paused, standing there blinking confusion at her. He furrowed his brow and shook his head. "I mean, yes, but, Nat..." He walked around the table toward her chair. Natasha swiveled the seat toward him as he came around and crouched down in front of her. She kept her arms folded across her chest, guarding herself, even as Steve placed his hands atop her knees.

"Natasha, I'm... I'm sorry. I tell everyone to keep moving forward, but I've been stuck. I've been so busy dwelling on everything we lost that I lost the one thing that was still right in front of me." He squeezed her knees.

"I couldn't handle not winning that day. The disappointment." Steve shook his head. "I thought… I thought we'd do it, you know? And when we didn't…" He sighed and allowed his gaze to drift to the side for a second. "I think I just… broke."

Natasha didn't say anything for a few seconds. She just stared down at him, reading him. Her green eyes darted away for the second it took her to swallow the lump in her throat. "I used to have nothing," Natasha said. She slowly slid her gaze back down to Steve. "And then I got this... this family. This purpose. Then I lost them. They all went away. We couldn't bring them back. And... then you went away, too."

"I felt like I failed." Steve said, casting his eyes down for a second. "Like I couldn't do anything. I wasn't needed."

"_I _needed you," Natasha scowled. "You weren't the only one who was beaten that day. It hurt us all, it _killed _us all that we couldn't get those goddamn stones."

"I know." Steve sighed. "I know. I let you down, and I'm sorry. I am _so _sorry for that. I was... well, I was an idiot. A world-class moron. I shouldn't have left. I should've stayed here and faced that defeat with you. With all of you. I can't change any of that, but I can be here now." His blue eyes moved back and forth between hers, sad and searching.

"If you'll let me."

He wasn't stupid enough to think that he could make Natasha Romanoff do anything she didn't want to do. He knew better than to think her incapable of independence. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't hope that she might still want him. They couldn't undo the damage that had been done, but that didn't mean they couldn't heal from it. It didn't mean they couldn't still have a life. Together.

Natasha sighed. The action deflated her, making her shoulders sag and her arms fall away from her chest. "Steve..."

One of the security panels began to chirp.

Steve turned to look over his shoulder just as a projected image appeared above the table. It was black and white footage from one of the cameras outside of the front gate. A vaguely familiar face stood outside, looking up at the camera and waving his arms.

"Hello!" The man yelled to the camera. "Hey, is anyone in there? It's, uh... it's Scott. Scott Lang? From the, uh, airport thing? I was... really small, and then I got really big?"

"Is that timestamp accurate?" Steve asked.

Nat nodded, slack-jawed and obviously surprised. She stood up from her seat and opened a control panel from the table. She pressed the intercom button. "Scott," she said. Her voice was calm, cool; professional. None of the pain or fatigue that had been there earlier was in it, now. She had buried it all deeply beneath the mask she showed the world.

"It's Natasha Romanoff. I'm buzzing you in."

Five minutes later, Scott was eating the other half of Natasha's sandwich, pacing back and forth and ranting like a mad man about the "Quantum Realm" and time travel and "Pym Particles". Steve watched him with a furrowed brow, worried that the man might have lost his mind in this realm he was speaking of. He glanced over at Natasha. She was trying to follow along. Steve could see the intensity in her gaze; the struggle to understand. She had, as she said, studied quantum physics "to make conversation", but that was the extent of her knowledge.

"Maybe we can use it, you know?" Scott said as he chewed a mouthful of peanut butter sandwich. "Find some way to, to... to _fix _all this."

"Scott, we tried." Natasha said, some of that fatigue showing through her voice again. "It's been five years. This is just the way things are now."

"That's what I'm saying!" He exclaimed, waving his hand. "In there, it was only, like... five _hours! _I'm telling you, we can _use _it. I just..." he got a little calmer, then, "I don't have all the... brainpower to figure it all out on my own."

Steve looked at Natasha. If this was even worth exploring, there was someone who did have enough brainpower, and probably some to spare, for this kind of thing. Still, just because they could do something didn't necessarily mean that they should. Tony, like most everyone else, had moved on. They hadn't seen him for quite some time, but they assumed he was doing just fine. Natasha kept tabs with him enough to make sure he and his family were doing well. They were living as normal a life as they possibly could in the fallout of all this. Now, here they were, thinking of interrupting it.

"You're probably tired," Natasha told Scott. "Why don't you rest up a bit. Let us... mull this over. It's a lot to take in." She gave him a rueful smile.

Scott nodded a few times, ultimately agreeing to that idea. Some rest sounded like a good thing. Steve volunteered to show him around and take him to a room. There were plenty to choose from.

"Place doesn't seem as big as last time," Scott commented. He looked at Steve. "Oh, when I, uh... totally _didn't _steal Pym's suit. Just borrowed."

Steve smirked. "Pretty sure that's all water under the bridge now."

"Yeah." Scott's face fell. "Sorry about Sam, man. And, uh... everyone."

Steve nodded. "Thanks. I'm sorry, too."

Scott had lost people, too. A lot of them, but he hadn't lost his daughter. Cassie was still alive and well, but Scott was still here, trying to do this thing to make everything right. That had to mean something, that he was willing to sacrifice his time with his daughter to try and get everyone and everything back. Steve showed Scott to a room and left with that thought. He wanted to fix things, too, but he didn't think he could do that if he couldn't fix things with Natasha, first.

He found her outside of the conference room, standing in front of a large window that looked out to a small courtyard. The small trees and flowers were illuminated in silvery moonlight, creating a peaceful garden view. Steve came to a stop beside her, taking a second to drink in the view. Silence stretched out between them for a few moments.

"We should call Tony," Natasha said eventually. "At least to run it by someone else. See if-"

"Natasha." Steve interrupted. He turned to face her, placing his hands on the outsides of her arms so he could gently turn her toward him. "Whatever you decide, I'm in. I'm there. But I'm _here,_" he said, squeezing her shoulders to indicate this, specific time and place, "for you."

He held her gaze; searched her eyes the way she searched his. More so, though, he allowed her to see the truth behind his blue eyes. He needed her to know the sincerity of his words. It was terrifying, really, laying yourself out there like that for someone and having no idea what they would do with it. It was a sort of vulnerability that Steve wasn't entirely comfortable with, but he loved Natasha. He just hoped she still loved him enough to give him a chance.

"We... can't go back," Natasha said, and Steve felt his heart plummet to his stomach. "But maybe... we can move forward. Have something different. Something better. Something that... will work this time."

He watched her eyelids flutter in that way they did when Nat was afraid but desperately trying to appear like she wasn't. Steve took a deep, shaky breath in the way he did when _he _was afraid. They were both afraid. Natasha feared being hurt; being let down again. Steve feared that he'd ruined the one, truly good thing he had left in his life. He knew that Natasha wasn't the type to just forgive and forget. She wasn't a pushover. Far from it, really. The fact that she was willing to give him another chance meant more to him than he could ever really say. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and nodded. He pushed out his breath and dared a small smile.

"I'd like that," Steve said.

Natasha stepped into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek to his chest. Steve slid his arms around her and held her tightly. He closed his eyes and lowered his chin against her head, sighing heavily. God, he'd missed her. It seemed like she'd missed him, too. He inhaled, breathing her in, before opening his eyes and pressing a kiss to the crown of Nat's head. She squeezed him tighter when he did that, and immediately lifted her head off his chest and turned her chin up toward him. Her eyes were so deeply, impossibly green, like a forest he thought he could take one step inside and get lost in forever. They had their own gravitational pull, like a warm, magnetic force sucking him in.

Steve had no choice but to dip his lips to meet Natasha's. He kissed her like a drowning man who had just found his air supply. Relief and warm comfort washed over him, and he held a little tighter, afraid that she might slip away if he didn't. Steve didn't have the best luck with second chances. He didn't want to mess this one up. After a few more, blissful seconds, he pulled out of the kiss. He didn't go far, though, just enough to open his eyes and look down at her again. A small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. Natasha lifted one hand to rest on the side of Steve's face, thumb gently stroking the strong shape of his jawline.

"Don't mess this up, Rogers," she said quietly, echoing his thoughts exactly.

He allowed himself a small smile of his own. "Yes, ma'm." He said. Then, he kissed her again.


	14. Favors

It was Natasha's hope that Scott's arrival, and the days following, would have been the start of something good. In a way, they were. They had a new idea, a new goal to work toward, and with Steve back it meant they were doing it together. It was good, but that didn't necessarily make it easier. They knew they needed help on this, and they knew who the best person to offer that help was. Unfortunately, it wasn't as easy as just going to ask for that help. At least not for Steve. Natasha was doing her best to _make _it that easy, though.

"Are you really going to let your _pride _get in the way of this?" Natasha asked Steve the following evening. They were still figuring things out. How to disagree wasn't one of them.

"It's not..." Steve sighed. "It has nothing to do with my pride." He folded his arms across his chest and fixed her with a look. "It's been how long? We haven't spoken. We left him alone. Breaking that silence to go up there and ask for a favor? Nat, it feels wrong."

Now it was her turn to sigh. Steve Rogers, the righteous soldier. He was America's blessing, but he could also be a royal pain in the ass. "It's not like you're asking him to fix your car," she said. "This is big. Tony will see that." She placed a hand on the outside of his arm, rubbing up and down a few times. She knew this was hard for Steve. Tony's return hadn't exactly served to mend the broken bridges between the two men. There wasn't necessarily animosity between them, now, but it certainly wasn't like it was before.

"Steve, please." Natasha said gently. "This could be our only chance. If you don't do this, you're going to regret it for the rest of your life."

She held his gaze for a few long moments. She could see the doubt swirling behind Steve's blue eyes. Ultimately, though, he relented, albeit a bit reluctantly. He released a heavy sigh and dropped his arms to his sides.

"You're right," Steve said. "We'll go tomorrow."

Natasha allowed herself a small, accomplished smile. She gave Steve's hand a squeeze and left to share the news with Scott.

Natasha, Steve and Scott went to see Tony that next day. It was a quiet drive up through the countryside to Tony's secluded estate. He owned a beautiful cabin by a lake, where he and Pepper were finally able to settle down and have the life they both always wanted. Natasha would be lying if she said she didn't feel a pang of jealousy upon pulling up the driveway. She wondered if she and Steve would have had something like this, had things been different. They'd never gotten to think that far ahead, to the home they would have; the life they would have. It seemed like they never would. Maybe Natasha was stupid to think that something like this was ever in the cards for her. Maybe people like her just didn't get to have that kind of life. Not after the things she did.

Steve parked the car, and the three of them stepped outside of it to see Tony standing near the porch, his daughter in his arms. Morgan was beautiful, with her father's dark eyes and her mother's gentle face. Natasha wished she would have seen more of the girl. She wished she could have watched her grow, just like she wished she could've watched Clint's kids grow. For them, it was too late. They were gone. She should've been there for Clint for that, too. But she wasn't, and now her best friend was roaming the world like some vengeful pariah. The worst part was, she couldn't do a damn thing about it. At least not yet. So, for now, she had to focus on what she _could _do.

Natasha stood in the driveway, a soft smile on her face. She gave a simple nod to Tony, who returned the gesture before turning around and heading inside with Morgan, no doubt to leave the child with her mother. Tony wasn't naive enough to think they were here for a social call, though Natasha desperately wished that they were. She glanced over to Steve as they waited for Tony to return. His expression was some mix between hardened and worried. Natasha was beginning to think that part of Steve's reluctance to be here, asking this thing of Tony, was due to Morgan. Steve recognized the beautiful importance of the life Tony had made here just as much as Natasha did, and, just like Natasha, he didn't want to disrupt that. But if they were going to pull this off, they might have to do plenty of things they didn't want to. After a few moments, Tony returned. Natasha, Steve and Scott walked up the drive and joined Stark on the porch.

"So," Tony said, "what can I do for you?"

Natasha hadn't given him many details over the phone, just that Scott Lang was alive, and that they needed to pick Tony's brain about some things. She turned the floor over to Scott, now. Even as non-scientific and scattered as his explanations were at times, he was the only one who had actually been to the Quantum Realm and survived it. Twice. Natasha hoped that, if anyone could decipher the former thief's thoughts, it would be Tony.

"So, let me get this straight," Tony said, stopping Scott's rant. "You want to use some hunk of metal in the back of your van-"

"Quantum Tunnel," Scott said.

"Whatever. You want to use this thing to go back in time. That's... that's insane, Scott. Laughable. Quantum fluctuation messes with things we can't even begin to comprehend. Shorter version: people don't come back from something like that."

"I did." Scott countered.

"No, you... accidentally survived. It was a fluke, completely beyond your control."

"But it means it can be done," Steve said.

"Ah, there's that giddy optimism I missed so much," Tony said.

Steve didn't respond, but the way his jaw tensed ever so slightly didn't go unnoticed by Natasha.

"Tony, we wouldn't be asking you if we didn't have to." Natasha said.

Stark sighed and slowly lowered himself into one of the wicker patio chairs. "There is no way for this plan to be logically, safely executed. The only outcomes here are," he held up one finger, "you die. Or," he held up a second finger, "you screw things up even more than they already are."

Tony turned his eyes toward a window. Natasha followed his gaze, and saw Morgan playing in the living room, wearing her very own Iron Man gauntlet fashioned from a red glove and a solar light stitched into the palm. She could hear the clinking of dishes coming from the kitchen.

"I can't help you." Tony said. "I wish I could, I really do, but I just can't." He stood up from his chair, a heavy sigh leaving him as he did so. "There's too much risk, and that in there?" He pointed toward the window. "It's too important to me. I can't roll the dice on this one, guys. I'm sorry."

There was no convincing him otherwise. Natasha was disappointed by the outcome, but she couldn't say she was surprised by it. After all that, Tony invited them all in for lunch, but the conversation had left things rather tense. Scott, in his almost childlike friendliness, was willing to stay, but Steve had other plans. They bid Tony farewell. Natasha asked him to give Morgan a kiss for her, and then they piled back into the car and headed out.

That brought them to option two.

Their second stop was to meet with Bruce. That turned out to be an... interesting experience. The only thing weirder than seeing the green guy sitting at a diner in upstate New York, sporting a cardigan and glasses and Bruce's easy voice, was the fact that no one else seemed to think anything of it. The other patrons just sort of accepted the over-sized, eloquently speaking behemoth with none of the fear or disdain they'd approached him with before. Granted, before he didn't say much more than growls and had a predisposition to break everything he touched. This was an improvement. Scott had questions, though. A lot of them.

Things like, "So, you're like this, like... _all _the time?"

And, "Where do you buy your clothes? How much do you spend a week in groceries?"

Apparently, Bruce had taken a lot of time "figuring himself out". After his inability to "perform" against Thanos, he wanted to get things right. That meant marrying the best of both worlds. In this case, that was Hulk's size and strength and Bruce's mind and manners. It was difficult for Natasha to stop staring, but it was even harder for Scott. He certainly hadn't been expecting this, and as many questions as he got answered, it seemed like two more would spring up. Once they all got over that hurdle, though, they had to face another one. Time travel wasn't Bruce's area of expertise, but to be fair, whose area _was _it?

Fortunately, Bruce's lack of experience didn't make him any less on board. He would help them. Natasha's relief was palpable. She didn't know how his help would compare to what Tony's might have been like, but she knew that it would be better than trying to go at this without Bruce. She couldn't help but to feel the blossom of optimism deep in her gut. She had to keep a careful rein on it, though, for fear of what false hope could lead to. Natasha had dealt with it far too many times in the last several years, and she wasn't sure if it was something she was ready to handle again anytime soon. Still, she couldn't help the small smile she wore when they left the diner.

"Well," Scott was saying, "that was sufficiently _weird."_

"I think we're all but immune to it at this point," Natasha said.

Scott didn't seem to hear her. "I mean, the cost of groceries _alone_ would be..." He shook his head.

The drive back to headquarters was spent mostly just listening to Scott speculate on how many calories Bruce ate in a day, what size jeans he wore, if he had to ride in the back of a box truck every time he wanted to go somewhere, and other, similar things. It was an amusing distraction that even Steve seemed to welcome. Natasha caught him grinning out of the corner of her eye a time or two. It was nice to see that serious stare broken up by a smile every now and again. The years had not been kind to them; they had to take these moments when and where they could.

Back at base, they moved Scott's van into one of the large, R&D rooms whose last real use was fixing up the Benetar five years ago. It was one of the rooms Natasha had avoided ever since, unable to stand beneath the weight of the failure she felt every time she got close to it. Memories of their second encounter with Thanos still plagued her from time to time. As bad as they were, it was more the memories of the fall outs immediately following that haunted her. The way everyone had just sort of... drifted apart. Their defeat had led them to self-imposed independence. For some people, like Bruce and Tony, that had led to a better life. For others, the story was quite different. Natasha could've said that she was being productive, overseeing a spy network that was a meager shadow of what S.H.I.E.L.D. used to be, but the truth was... she'd been miserable. Miserable and alone. She was hoping that she wouldn't have to be either of those things anymore.

Bruce arrived at headquarters about an hour or so after them. Scott, of course, only wondered even more about how the big guy got around. Natasha imagined he might be asking Bruce some of those questions he'd had in the car earlier. If Bruce was planning to start working on the Quantum Tunnel tonight, there would certainly be plenty of time for conversation. She didn't think it was a task that would be accomplished quickly. Scott would help, lending his experience where he could. As far as Nat and Steve went, well, they would probably serve the most use by just staying out of the way.

"If this works," Natasha told Steve later that night, "we'll need everyone." She held his gaze, waiting to see understanding in his eyes. It was there, though reluctantly.

Steve entwined his fingers with Nat's, looking down at their hands for a moment. "You'll go looking for Clint." He said. It was more of a statement than a question, but Natasha felt it needed answering, all the same.

She nodded once. "It has to be me," she said. "It _should _be me." Nat chewed on her lower lip for a second, her brow furrowing slightly. "He won't hurt me, Steve."

"I know." He lifted his gaze to meet hers. "That's not what I'm worried about." He knew she expected an explanation, so he went on. "Clint lost... everything. We've seen how that's affected him, Nat. I just..." he sighed. "I don't want you to go looking for someone who isn't there anymore."

Natasha said nothing, keeping her lips pressed in a firm line and a neutral expression on her face. She didn't want her face to betray her; to reveal the fear she felt over the possibility that Steve was right. Clint was her best friend. She should've been there for him. What if she found him and he was too far gone? She felt like that would be on her. She sighed and squeezed Steve's hand a little tighter.

"He'll be there," she said with a confidence she didn't feel. "He will."

Steve reached his free hand forward, tucking a strand of red hair behind Nat's ear. He wore a soft smile as his eyes roamed her face. "Well, if anyone can bring him home, I know it's you."

Natasha rested her head against Steve's shoulder. They stood side-by-side, looking out the large window in front of the second floor catwalk. The trees looked like little more than shadowy giants in the darkness, and the stars seemed to burn brighter than they used to. It was beautiful, but it did nothing to erase the undeniable emptiness that seemed to stretch on forever. The world hadn't just been robbed of its people. One half of its birds, its crickets, its beautiful and natural ambiance had been erased by the snap as well. Thanos thought he was making the world a better place. All he did was make it a graveyard.

"Does this mean you're getting Thor?" Natasha asked with a grin. She felt Steve's shoulder shake in a chuckle.

"Let's not count our chickens before they hatch."

Natasha lifted her head from his shoulder and fixed him with an amused look, one brow perked and the corner of her lips twitching up in a smirk.

"Don't," Steve warned her with a smirk of his own. He knew that look, and he knew how much Natasha loved to tease him for his style of speech sometimes. Some of Steve's analogies were pretty outdated. Luckily, she let go of any quips she might have been holding onto. She gave his hand a squeeze, instead, before gently sliding her fingers away from his.

"I should check in with Rhodey," Natasha said.

Steve nodded before casting a glance over his shoulder. "I guess I should go make sure they don't blow up the lab.

Natasha turned and started to back pedal away. "Godspeed, Captain." She rose one hand in a mock salute before turning on her heels and walking off.


	15. Trial and Error

"Alright," Steve said as he walked into the work bay, "the backup generator is fired up and ready to go."

It was several days after Bruce had joined their band of merry men (and women). He and Scott had been working tirelessly at connecting the slightly unstable system that was the Quantum Tunnel in Scott's van into some sort of controller. It was their hope that the trajectory of travel, in terms of time and location, could be precisely inputted and controlled from outside the tunnel to prevent a traveler from getting lost in the vast universe that was the Quantum Realm. One person could send the other to a certain point in time, and then safely retrieve them back to the present. Now, everything was assembled and, hopefully, ready to go in one of the bays.

There was no shortage of wires running along the floor. Steve had to be careful. Everywhere he stepped, there was something incredibly important hooked up to something even more important. Scott's van had the back doors open. The Quantum Tunnel had a myriad of wires running to an elaborate computer system on wheels that Bruce had carted into the bay. The system, in turn, had multiple wires keeping it connected to different power sources. It featured several different monitors, showing different readings that quantified things Steve couldn't even begin to understand. There were multiple control panels and switchboards as well. Bruce stood behind them all, adjusting this and that and, no doubt, ensuring everything was as it should be.

"Reading's look good so far." Natasha said. She was standing a little off to the side, a tablet in her hand. She didn't have the seven- or was it eight? Steve had lost count- PhD's that Bruce had, but the big guy had given her a breakdown of what to look for. She was keeping a second eye on everything.

Meanwhile, Scott was standing in front of the tunnel, fully equipped and ready to go in his Ant-Man suit. This wasn't Scott's first time going subatomic. He exhibited an optimistic confidence that, quite frankly, impressed Steve. What they were doing here, it was grounds for hesitation, and that was putting it lightly. They were attempting something that, to Steve's knowledge, had never been done before. Bruce and Scott had figured out a way to navigate time. At least, they thought they did. This would be the first time actually putting it to the test. There were a lot of "if's" involved in this, but Scott was approaching it with surprising gusto.

"Alright, remember," Bruce said, "you're there to observe. We just want to make sure this works."

"Got it." Scott gave a thumbs up.

"Okay." Bruce began to hit some buttons on the control panel. "Time travel trial run. In five, four, three..."

"You've got this, Scott." Steve said.

"You're right, Captain America. I do-"

Before Scott could finish his sentence, he was sucked backward, growing infinitely small as he was pulled into the Quantum Tunnel. No sooner was he gone did Bruce start the countdown for retrieval.

"He's back in five, four, three..."

The big guy pressed a few more buttons, and the Quantum Tunnel shot Scott back out into the bay. At least... Steve _thought _it was Scott. The male before them was half his size and half his age and swimming in the suit that was now too large for him. Steve cast a worried glance over to Bruce.

"Uh... is that supposed to happen?" He asked.

Bruce seemed in a panic. He didn't answer, too concentrated on pressing some more buttons and inputting more code and commands into the computers. Without warning, Scott was sucked back into the tunnel. In another second, he was brought back again. This time, he was a man well into his eighties.

"Bruce..." Natasha warned.

"I got it, I got it."

Steve wasn't holding his breath. Well, he was, but it was in the literal sense. He watched with nervous anticipation as Scott was sent back into the tunnel. When he came out a third time...

"What?" Natasha gawked.

The suit was little more than a pile of rags on the floor. The only sign that it was occupied was the baby's face appearing inside the helmet.

"Get him back, Banner." Steve said, his sense of urgency pushing some edge to his voice.

"On my go, cut the power!" Bruce said.

Natasha jogged off to the breaker and waited for the big guy's command. Baby Scott was sent back into the tunnel. Steve was clenched tightly by the fear that they had just done something horribly wrong to their ally and friend. Everything seemed like a whirl of chaos around him. He was afraid they weren't going to get Scott back, or, if they did, they would be getting back a version that was quite different than the one they originally sent away. Bruce yelled for Natasha to cut the power. As she did so, the Quantum Tunnel sent out one last burst of energy. This time, when Scott came back... it was the right one. At least, Steve hoped it was. Natasha jogged back over and stood next to Steve, clutching the tablet to her chest.

Scott staggered a few steps away from the van and stood looking incredibly disoriented and uncomfortable.

"I think... someone peed in my suit."

...

A couple of hours later, Scott was still chugging water and nursing some pretty serious vertigo. Steve had left him in his room after checking in, for what seemed like the tenth time. Scott seemed grateful for the concern, but Steve knew it was probably best if he left the man alone for a bit. He rejoined Natasha and Bruce in one of the conference rooms. Bruce was trying to figure out what went wrong. Natasha seemed to be acting more as a sounding board than anything else. Her face was an impenetrable mask, making it impossible to tell how she felt about this whole... ordeal.

Steve didn't feel the need to keep his opinion a secret.

"We're tabling it." He announced upon his arrival.

"What?" Banner furrowed his big brow, shaking his head. "No, I can figure it out. Maybe if I adjust the-"

"That could've gone a lot worse than it did." Steve interrupted. "It's too big a risk. We're not sending him back in there."

"Steve, we're _close._" Bruce countered.

"We've already lost enough." Steve said. "He's got a kid. Do we really want to see another daughter without her father because we didn't know when to say enough is enough?"

"I don't think that's our decision to make." Natasha's reply came, gentle but sure. She shrugged a shoulder when the others looked her way. "It's Scott's call," she told them. "If he wants to try again, that's on him. We can't stand in his way. The best thing we can do is help him."

Natasha held Steve's gaze, her green eyes unwavering, not that he expected them to be anything else. She had a unique ability to stand in the face of most anything without flinching. She wasn't afraid to voice her opinion, but she did so with a steady mind. Natasha was confidence incarnate, and it was hard to see the error in her statement. Still, Steve took a deep breath, inflating his chest, and released it in a slow sigh. Just because Natasha was right didn't mean he didn't have to be worried.

"Alright," he finally said. "We'll leave it up to him, but we let him recover." His blue eyes swiveled between Nat and Bruce, looking for understanding. They both gave it in the form of a nod.

They were all on the same page. That was good, but there still wasn't anything left for them to do tonight. Bruce could go back to the computers, tinker with this and that all he liked, but they couldn't do anything until Scott was ready. _If _he was ready. That was a discussion they would have to save for tomorrow, because Steve was adamant about letting the man recover for the rest of the evening. It would give him time to let his own frustrations subside a bit. That was the hope, anyway. He felt like a kid, hellbent on getting on a horse that was just as hellbent on knocking him off of it. Every time he felt like they were making some progress, they hit the ground. Hard. They probably should've learned to accept the fate of the world a long time ago, but they hadn't.

Some people moved on, but not them.

...

The next day, Steve's morning coffee was interrupted by an alert from the front gate. Someone had keyed in and was driving their very nice car up to the complex, faster than they had any business going. Steve had a feeling he knew what that meant, or rather _who _that meant. He abandoned his coffee and headed outside. He stepped outside the front entrance just as the flashy, silver vehicle was coming to a stop. The tinted window rolled down, and Steve's suspicions were confirmed. Tony was sitting in the driver's seat, a smug grin on his face.

"Let me guess," Stark said, "you tried it. Didn't work, right?" Tony answered his own question before Steve had a chance to. "Of course it didn't work. Because you're doing it wrong." He stepped out of the vehicle.

"Tony, what are you-"

"You have to alter the trajectory," Tony went right on saying. "Because it's not linear. It's a loop. You need to push Lang through time, not push time through Lang. But you didn't know that. Because you didn't have me." He came to a stop at the trunk of the car and flashed Steve a smile. "Lucky for you, I figured it out."

Steve was at a loss for words. This was a completely different Tony than the one they had gone to for help. He was enthusiastic, to say the least; chattering quickly about his findings and all the things he was going to do to help them get this right. Most of it went over Steve's head, but he was pretty sure he got the general idea. He was even more sure when Tony opened the trunk of the car. He had to push aside some things, odds and ends and some of Morgan's toys, but eventually he found what he was looking for. One of those things was a sturdy, metal case that likely held whatever it was that had enabled Tony to "figure it out". The other...

"Look familiar?" Tony pulled the shield out from beneath a throw blanket and a small handful of toys. The vibranium circle glistened in the morning sun, reminding Steve of days long since past.

Tony handed the shield to Steve. Its red and white rings, and the star emblazoned on a blue circle in the center, were a sight for sore eyes. He tested the weight. It felt right in his hands, familiar even though it'd been years since he held it. Steve stared down at it for a few moments before slowly lifting his gaze to the man before him.

"Tony, I-"

"Look," Tony held up a hand. "A lot's happened. We both made mistakes. We _all _made mistakes. Water under the bridge, alright? Let's just lace up our boots and move on. We've got plenty of work to do."

Stark extended his hand to Steve. It only took a second for Steve to grip it and give one, firm handshake. This was how things should have gone. When they got Tony back, this is how Steve wished it'd been. But Stark was right. They made mistakes. The past was the past. The best thing they could do was focus on the job ahead, because it sure as hell wasn't going to be an easy one. They walked back into the building together, Tony with his case and Steve with his shield.

Tony broke the news to Bruce, Nat, and a very relieved Scott. He'd invented a device that would, essentially, act as a time GPS. It would enable them to track where and when they were going down to the exact minute, and it would allow them to bring themselves back to their current time without anyone behind the control panel. They could go back, get the stones, and return to the present moment without altering their own timelines. Tony stressed the importance of that part. As one of the few people in the room who had actually _gained _something over the last several years, he was adamant about not losing it. Stark also reiterated what Natasha had already said. They were going to need the whole team for this. That meant calling everyone back in to base. Rhodey, Nebula, Rocket, Thor... Clint.

Maybe there was a part of Steve that had been hoping this wouldn't work. A part so deeply buried he thought it would never see the light of day, but... here it was. Most of the others could be called in. They would come. Without question, they would come. But not all of them. For years, Clint had been a shadow hanging over Natasha. Steve had seen it firsthand. Her worry for her friend was palpable, but all this time, she'd just... let him go. Even knowing what he'd been doing, she left him be. Whether it was due to guilt or respect or something else, Natasha hadn't tried to confront him. Maybe she harbored some of the same fears that Steve did, that, when she finally did find him, he would be something else. Steve knew all too well what that pain felt like, and he wouldn't wish it on anyone. Least of all Natasha.

"I know I can't tell you not to go," he told her later that day. Natasha was ready to depart, and the Quinjet was fired up and waiting for her. Telling her she shouldn't go would be like telling a bird not to fly. Steve knew that Natasha had to do this. He knew she had to do it alone, but it didn't make him worry any less.

"We need him." Natasha said. "_I_ need him. He lost everything, Steve. The least we can do is give him the opportunity to help get it back."

"I know." Steve nodded, his brow furrowed slightly.

There were a lot of things he wanted to tell her, but everything just seemed like it would serve little more purpose than to reprimand or patronize Natasha and her intentions. Steve respected her too much to do that. She didn't need reminding of what she should and shouldn't do. She didn't need to be told what she was capable of. But Steve hadn't forgotten how the past few years had treated them. He hadn't forgotten the rift that had formed between them, and how they were working, now, to pull everything back together. He didn't want that to be for nothing.

"I know why you have to do this," he said, "and I know why you have to do it alone." He reached forward and placed a hand on her cheek, his fingers working to push some hair behind her ear. "Just know that I'm here. Whatever you need, I'll be right here when you get back."

Natasha smiled and placed her hand on the outside of Steve's. "I know," she told him.

Steve dipped his lips to hers for a soft, brief kiss. Then, he stepped back, his hand falling back down to his side. "Good luck."

He watched with a tightness in his chest as Natasha boarded the Quinjet. The loading ramp closed, and she disappeared from sight. Steve took several steps back and watched from a safe area as the aircraft smoothly lifted into the air. He caught a brief glimpse of Natasha in the pilot seat before the Quinjet zoomed off into the night.


	16. The Ties that Bind Us

Rain was falling heavily on the streets of Tokyo. It created a blur of color, the city's neon lights shining in the dark. Bright greens, reds and pinks glared off of the slick, rain-soaked streets and their many puddles. The once-booming city was now a trash-filled shell of its former self. Just like the rest of the world. Natasha brought the Quinjet down just outside city limits. Clint's last reported location was somewhere near Chuo City. He'd been leaving a trail of Yakuza corpses in his wake. As if the world didn't have enough dead to mourn. Not that these were the types to mourn the loss of. None of Clint's victims were, really. Still, the fact that he had victims at all was troubling. The Clint that Natasha knew, the Clint that she loved, didn't have a body count.

But that was before he'd had everything taken away from him. And why did the criminals, the murderers and rapists, get to live when his family didn't?

Things were quiet, despite the rain. Natasha walked the streets with caution, bypassing driverless cars and empty shops. If there were people around, they weren't showing their faces. She could understand why. There had been a fight here recently. Half a dozen, if not more, men were strewn across the street, half-hanging out of windows or splayed across the hoods of cars. Natasha had passed the Tsukiji Market about five minutes ago and saw a similar scene, there. Dead men among dead fish. It seemed that Clint was working fast. The people were right to hide.

Natasha couldn't help but to think about what Steve told her. About looking for someone who wasn't there anymore. He'd faced a similar obstacle with Bucky, but he never gave up. Even when everyone else, when the whole world, was against him, Steve fought for his friend. Natasha should've been doing that. She should've tried to reach Clint sooner, but fear of failure had kept her rooted in place. She didn't know what she would be able to give him, what she could possibly do to pull him back from that ledge. What did she have other than herself? And what happened when that just wasn't enough?

God, she needed this to work.

She needed _her _family. She needed them complete and together, like they used to be, because without them, Natasha had nothing. Even before the incident, when she'd been on the run with Steve and Sam, Natasha had felt the very noticeable absence of everyone else that had become so incredibly important to her. The rift that had formed between them was with her every single day. She wouldn't have traded her time with Steve for the world. If asked to do it again, she would stay with Steve, every single time, but Natasha always wished that she didn't have to choose.

Sounds of a struggle came from up ahead. Natasha started to jog, following the noise of yells, grunts, and the clash of steel against steel. She clutched her umbrella tightly and peered through the sheet of rain that fell just outside of it. Two figures came into view, men locked in the grips of a vicious fight to the death. The man on the defensive was Japanese, dressed in a fine suit that was now soiled with rain and blood. The other, hooded and clothed in all black, could be none other than Clint. His back was toward her, and she had no way of viewing his face, but Natasha still knew. She'd fought by his side long enough to know how he operated. Even wielding a sword instead of a bow, there was no mistaking him.

Natasha stood, locked in place, and watched the fight. She knew better than to intervene. Not that Clint needed it. He blocked and parried each quick, vicious blow the man sent his way. Sparks flew each time the blades kissed, creating small flashes like lightning before the two individuals. The sound echoed across the hollow street. Natasha watched as Clint got behind the man and sliced into the back of his leg. He was brought down to one knee, and Clint promptly disarmed him with another slice to his sword hand. In another second, he was standing in front of the Yakuza and stabbing his sword through the man's chest. Natasha flinched at the sound of his choked cry of pain. He went stiff, then still, and when the sword was pulled from his chest, he fell face first onto the rain-soaked street. Clint wiped the blood from the blade onto his sleeve in one, fluid motion, and then gracefully slid the sword back in its place on his hip. Natasha stood in place and watched as he, his back still toward her, lowered his hood and removed the mask from his face.

"You shouldn't be here." His voice was just as hollow as the world around them.

Natasha swallowed the pain that those words caused. She pushed it down as far as it would go and took a deep, steady breath. "That makes two of us," she replied.

Clint slowly turned around, and when their gazes met, Natasha's fears were confirmed. The eyes that looked at her were empty. They were vacant shells formerly filled with life and good nature. There wasn't a hint of that happy light that she used to see there. There was none of that man that refused to let the world get him down. This was a man who had been beaten and left hard; numb from all the scars. Natasha felt her heart splinter like glass threatening to shatter into a million pieces.

"I've got a job to do." Came Clint's cold reply.

"Is that what you call this?" She motioned toward the street around them and the bodies that littered it. She took a step forward. "Killing all these people... it won't bring your family back."

Clint's gaze hardened even more. _Don't _it seemed to warn her. _Don't go there._

But Natasha believed what she told Steve before. Clint wouldn't hurt her. Not purposely. Not physically. While the sight of him and the emptiness in his voice damn near killed her, she knew he wouldn't lay a finger on her. Not even if she pushed him. Not even if she pushed him to the very edge.

"We... found something." She took another step forward. "Something that-"

"Don't." He interrupted. He shook his head, his eyebrows furrowing in a pained expression. He took a deep breath and let it out in a shaky exhale, his eyelids fluttering with the action. "Don't give me hope."

That splintered glass shattered.

Natasha's heart broke. She felt the pain in her chest, like she was being squeezed too tightly and being robbed of air. She took the few more steps necessary to close the distance between herself and Clint. He was stiff; cautious of her proximity. She didn't care. She reached forward and took his hand anyway, her cold fingers wrapping around his gloved hand. It was slick with rain and blood.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you sooner," she said softly.

Natasha waited for what felt like hours, but, finally, Clint closed his fingers around hers. He looked down at their joined hands and then slowly lifted his gaze to meet hers. Tears strung her emerald hues, making the image of him blurry. Her chest squeezed even more tightly; made it feel like it was a battle just to breathe. She couldn't take it any longer. Natasha dropped her umbrella and threw her arms around Clint. She buried her face into his shoulder and hugged him as tightly as she could. A few tears slipped out from the corners of her eyes. They felt hot compared to the cold rain falling freely on her now. She squeezed her eyes closed and willed the tears to stop.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, her words muffled by his hood. "I'm so sorry."

Clint returned the embrace. It felt like he'd needed it just as badly as Natasha had. They stood like that for several minutes, just standing in the middle of the downpour and allowing the rain to drown out the rest of the world. Natasha's guilt hit her like a tidal wave, but so did her relief. It'd been too long, but she'd finally done it. She finally found her closest friend, and she finally had a reason to bring him home.

Sirens began to wail in the distance.

Sniffling, Natasha opened her eyes and pulled out of the embrace. She let her arms slide away from Clint and reached down to retrieve her umbrella. "We should get out of here."

Clint took one last look around him before giving a nod. "Yeah."

...

The ride back home wasn't an overly talkative one. There wasn't a whole lot to catch Clint up to speed on, personally. Nat was so used to keeping her life, her relationship with Steve, so close to the vest, that it seemed strange to talk about it now. Even with things relatively out in the open, it felt strange. Besides, how could she flaunt her relationship in Clint's face when he'd lost the love of his life and the three beautiful children that had come from it? It felt wrong, and even though Natasha had an idea of what that loss felt like, she knew it could never compare to what Clint had lost.

So, she brought him up to speed on the mission, instead. She told him what they were hoping to accomplish, and how they were hoping to do it. With Tony's addition to the plan, they would be able to navigate time in a more controlled way. They could go back, get the stones, and use them to bring back everyone and everything that had been lost in the snap. Natasha tried not to think about what that could mean for her, if anything. The life inside of her had just barely started to form before it was gone. Would it come back? Would it be... different? It'd been over five years, after all. She couldn't even begin to wrap her mind around all that. Just like Clint, she was afraid of hope. Terrified of it, really. She did her best to keep it pushed to the far corners of her mind.

"Say it works," Clint said. "What happens after that? The stones will be here again, and with power like that... What's to say there isn't someone else out there? Someone like Thanos waiting to scoop them up and do the same, horrible thing that he did."

"The plan is to put them back," Natasha said with a shrug. She glanced over at Clint, who didn't seem to be impressed with that answer. "I don't know. Maybe we haven't... thought that far ahead yet. One thing at a time." She offered him a small smile.

Not long later, Natasha was bringing the Quinjet back down onto the landing pad at the base. It felt good to be home. It felt even better to be bringing Clint back with her. She smiled at him as they stepped off the aircraft.

"Remember," she told him, "things are... a little weird."

"Not much phases me anymore," Clint said.

"We'll see about that."

Steve was the first to greet them.

He seemed apprehensive at first, especially upon seeing Clint. He was unsure of what to expect, but a smile and a nod from Natasha seemed to ease some of that tension. He took a deep breath and extended a hand to Clint.

"Barton," he said. "It's good to have you back, buddy."

The two men shook hands and exchanged half hugs in the form of pats on the back. Steve made eye contact with Natasha over Clint's shoulder and gave her an appreciative smile. She felt a warmth swell inside of her. How long had she been waiting for this moment? How long had she wished that she could have the two most important men in her life together once more? For too long, she hadn't thought it would be possible. Now, here they were, and she was so incredibly thankful for that.

When their reunion ended, Steve turned his focus to Natasha. Her contained smile only grew as he approached her, arms held out to the sides in preparation for a much warmer embrace. She smiled and stepped into the hug. It'd only been a day, but she'd missed him terribly.

"Good work, Romanoff." He said.

"I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be," she replied as she stepped back. Her lips were pushed to one side in a small smirk. "How'd it go with the others?"

"All accounted for," Steve said. He turned and began to lead the way inside. "Bruce and Rocket got Thor, but... Well, he's been having a bit of a rough time."

"Rocket?" Clint perked a brow. He glanced over to Natasha. "Is that the, uh... badger?"

"Raccoon." Natasha said, and was surprised at her ability to keep a straight face. "I told you. Weird."

And weird was right. Steve led them to a room where everyone was waiting. Some of the familiar faces weren't so familiar anymore. Bruce's symbiotic coexistence with the big green guy was a lot to take in. Then... there was Thor. The god of thunder was sporting long locks once more. He was also sporting a beard and a lot of extra weight around the midsection. Natasha knew he'd taken everything that happened with Thanos pretty hard, but seeing him like this was a testament to just _how _hard. He was doing his best to keep a happy face; pretend that he was doing just fine, but Natasha knew better. She knew what pain looked like in a person's eyes. She knew what thinly-veiled attempts at happiness were. God knows she's attempted them enough on her own over the past several years. She felt for Thor, and made sure to hold on for just a few seconds longer when she hugged him.

Tony was still Tony, and Scott was still Scott for the most part, so those weren't quite as much of a shock. The addition of Nebula and Rocket did seem to catch Clint off guard, though. Natasha couldn't help but to feel a little smug. For someone who "wasn't phased" by much, those two certainly threw her friend for a loop. To be fair, he recovered quickly enough. After reunions and introductions, it was assumed that Clint would want some down time to get settled, reacquainted, and whatever else he needed to do. Clint, however, wanted no part of that. He didn't come back to relax. He came back to work.

So, that's what they did.

It didn't happen overnight, but eventually, the team constructed everything they needed to perform this feat. For a few days, HQ was a series of revolving doors; people coming and going from room to room carrying this power source or that ventilation tube. There was blaring music, welding stations, and scrap piles in seemingly every room. They built what was essentially a large-scale version of the Quantum Tunnel in Scott's van, along with suits for each of them that would allow them to shrink down like Scott did. They had everything they needed; it was just a matter of testing it all out. Natasha knew all too well that trial runs weren't exactly hazard free.

Which was probably why Clint volunteered to do one.

"Do you think we should be letting him do this?" Steve asked her.

They were standing off to the side a bit, watching as Bruce, Scott and Tony made sure everything was in order. From the suit, to the tunnel, to the Pym particles that would enable Clint to shrink, they double and triple checked everything.

"He knows what's at stake," Natasha said. "He won't be reckless."

Steve was quiet for a moment. He looked over at Natasha, his expression thoughtful. "How... was it?" He asked. His tone was quieter than it had been before.

She looked at him. The memory of Tokyo brought a frown to her face. "He was lost." She said, sadness in her voice as well as her gaze. "And in so much pain. I thought... I thought you were right. At first." She shook her head and sighed, sliding her hands into her pockets. "After seeing what he was doing, what he was going through... I didn't think I'd be able to reach him."

"But you did." Steve's voice offered gentle assurance.

"Yeah," Nat nodded. "It was the only option." The only way she was coming home was with Clint with her.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"Don't be." Natasha offered him a small smile. "I'm sure you would've found a way to fudge it up."

Steve chuckled. "You're probably right."

Besides, Natasha thought, if Steve had seen exactly what Clint was doing, he might not have wanted him back.

"We're ready." Tony called from the platform.

Natasha and Steve rejoined the others. Nervous anticipation began to stir around inside of her. She was afraid of something going wrong, and Clint being sent somewhere they wouldn't be able to retrieve him from. She was afraid of losing him again, especially after just getting him back. But Clint seemed calm, and, for his sake, Natasha forced herself to be the same. She smiled at him from where she stood, a silent assurance that he could do this.

After a few more rules and pieces of advice from the others, Bruce fired up the machine. Clint's helmet locked into place as the machine whirred and glowed to life. The energy in the air was palpable.

"Going subatomic in five, four, three, two..."

In a flash of light and a loud _whoosh, _Clint shrunk down and disappeared into the well of orange light beneath him. Then, just like that, all was quiet. Clint was gone, as if he'd never even been there to begin with. It was only a few seconds before Bruce was counting down to retrieval, but Natasha was still holding her breath. She instinctively reached over and gripped Steve's wrist beside her. There was another flash of light, and suddenly, Clint was back, on his hands and knees on the platform.

Natasha released her hold of Steve and immediately ran up the ramp to her friend. She grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet as his helmet removed itself from his head, tucking back into the neck of his suit.

"Are you okay?"

Clint wasn't looking at her. For the first time, Natasha noticed he was holding something. It was a baseball glove. He looked up at Tony. A smile threatened to form on his face.

"It worked?" Stark asked.

Clint tossed the glove to him. "It worked."


	17. Time Heist

The team spent two days brainstorming, formulating, and hammering out all the details of their plan. Each individual only had enough Pym particles for one round-trip to and from whatever time and place they were assigned. There were six stones, and ten people- that term, of course, being used loosely in the presence of someone like Rocket- to retrieve them. They had to make the best use of everyone's individual talents and knowledge of the timelines they would be traveling to. It wasn't an easy task.

Thankfully, this team was no stranger to difficult assignments.

"Okay," Steve addressed the group. He stood in front of a holographic projection of the stones, organized according to location. In big, bold lettering at the top of the projection read the words "TIME HEIST". Scott was unwilling to let the name go, and everyone else had just sort of succumbed to it.

"We've got the space, mind, and time stones in New York." Steve said.

"You're welcome," Natasha said with a smirk. It had been her who made that revelation, a fact that was especially amusing given she'd done it while brainstorming with Tony and Bruce. Apparently all those PhD's weren't as special as the two of them thought.

Steve grinned, shook his head, and continued. "The reality stone in Asgard, power in Morag, and soul stone in Vormir. Thor, you and Rocket will head to Asgard to retrieve the reality stone from Jane."

The god of thunder made a sound of discontent from where he sat. Jane Foster, Thor's old flame, was a sensitive subject for the Asgardian. He had exhibited a lot of reluctance to be the one to go back and get the stone- which was more of an ether than an actual stone, as he had stated in his very long-winded explanation earlier- from her. Unfortunately, as the only Asgardian in the room, the task had to fall to Thor. No one was naive enough to think that Thor could make the trip alone, though, so Rocket would be accompanying him.

"Nebula, you know Peter Quill's precise location at the time he got the power stone. You and Rhodey will head to Morag."

The two of them nodded their understanding.

"Natasha; Clint, we're sending the two of you to Vormir. We don't know much about it, but it's where Thanos killed Gamora to obtain the stone. We have to assume it's a dangerous place. It's going to be a high risk job."

Steve looked between the two of them. He had his reservations about sending them on this particular quest, especially since he wouldn't be going along with them. He worried about the unknown variables. A lot could go wrong. The potential for disaster was perhaps the highest in Vormir.

"Nothing we haven't done before," Natasha said with a shrug. She looked over at Clint, who sat beside her with his arms folded across his chest. "Well, I mean, technically it's something we haven't done before, but..." she shrugged one shoulder, as if to say it was no big deal.

"We're up for the task." Barton confirmed with a nod. He was more serious about the endeavor, which was a bit comforting, Steve supposed.

Regardless of his personal feelings, Steve had to accept the assignments, because he knew there was no use arguing it. They all had jobs to do, and they were all committed to those jobs already. He had a feeling that trying to get any one of the people in this room to sit this one out would be a virtually impossible task. That was to be expected to. These were the best of the best, in both skill and character. Everyone was more than capable of doing their part, here, but more importantly, everyone _wanted _to do their part.

He nodded and looked back to the hologram. "Alright. Tony, Scott; Banner, that leaves us. We'll head to New York, 2012, when Loki brought the Chitauri to the city. Bruce, you'll need to find Stephen Strange and get the time stone. Tony, Scott and I will get Loki's staff to retrieve the mind stone, and the tesseract for the space stone."

Unable to sit quietly for too long, Tony popped out of his seat. He snapped his fingers and tapped his left palm against his right fist as he moved to stand by Steve. "Remember, we're there to get the stones, ether, whatever; that's it. Don't interfere; don't engage. No sports bets, no playing the lotto, no warning your younger selves not to wear that outfit you thought was cool at the time; don't do anything that could jeopardize the mission."

Steve nodded his agreement. "Look out for each other," he told them. "Get the stones, and get back." He surveyed the room, reading the faces and energies of everyone in it. There was solemn acceptance, nervous anticipation, excitement, and everything in between, but overall... there was readiness. Everyone knew their mission. They knew what was expected of them, and they were ready for it. That was good, because this was the fight of their lives.

"Suit up."

The team dispersed, each of them going their respective ways to suit up and ready up for the trip ahead. When they were finished Steve walked the hall with Natasha by his side. Her red hair was braided neatly down the right side of her head, interspersed with the blonde coloring that she was still growing out. She was fully equipped in her shrinking suit, wearing the most white Steve had ever seen her in. He was thinking about how great she looked in it, and how he would like to see her in another white outfit someday when she looked over at him.

"So, 2012, huh?" She perked a brow. "That's the year we first met."

Steve nodded, a smirk of his own forming on his face. It was crazy to think that it'd been over ten years since then, and that Natasha had been by his side for the majority of that decade. He thought there was some symbolism there, the fact that he had to go back to the beginning of their story to ensure that they could continue it, now. He kept those thoughts to himself, though. He was aware of his audience, and how it would be received.

"Yeah," Tony's voice sounded from behind them as he approached. He stepped in between them, wrapping one arm around both their shoulders. "Maybe we'll stop for shawarma." He chuckled and jostled the two of them a bit before releasing his grip and continuing on ahead.

Steve shook his head as he watched Tony walk off. He looked over at Nat, and his smile slowly fell. The weight of the task ahead settled on his shoulders.

"You always did get so solemn before a job," Natasha said.

"Yeah, well, you always had enough excitement for both of us."

The two of them joined the others on the platform. They stood in a circle around the central ring. Steve stared down at it for a few seconds, his brow furrowed; his gaze hard. This was it. This was their last chance at setting things right. That knowledge was stifling. Steve was no stranger to the impossible. He was no stranger to defying the odds and doing whatever it took to come out victorious, but that didn't mean it wasn't nerve-wracking every single time. He took a few, deep breaths before lifting his gaze to look at the others.

"Five years ago," he told them, "we lost. We lost friends, we lost family... we lost everything. This is our chance to get it back. We're doing this for them as much as ourselves. Remember your missions. Get the stones, and get back." He let that settle for a second. Then, he gave a nod.

"Good luck."

The machine fired up, the telltale whirring of the portal powering up could be heard all around them. Steve looked to his right, where Natasha stood beside him. She wiggled her arms and legs a bit, as if readying herself for a run. There was a sort of glimmer in her eyes, a hint of excitement, as she looked over to him.

"See you in a minute," she said with a smirk.

Steve smiled. He wished he could tell her that he loved her. He wished he could remind her, one more time, to be careful. But before he could say anything, the bright orange light flared to life beneath them, and they were all being sucked into the portal.

It was unlike anything Steve had ever experienced.

The world, if that's what you wanted to call the blur of strange light and color around him, moved quickly. He zoomed by it, or it zoomed by him, at an alarming speed. It was disorienting, to say the least. He felt like he was being catapulted through a wind tunnel. It didn't feel like he was in control of any of it. But they had programmed their devices to set the trajectory for their travel. He had to trust that the science would hold true.

Steve didn't know how much time had passed. Minutes, maybe seconds. Regardless, before he knew it, he was being shot out to full size in the streets of New York City. Tony, Bruce and Scott were by his side. Everyone was equally disoriented for the first few seconds. They had been thrust into chaos. They were smack dab in the middle of the Chitauri battle. There was smoke and debris all around them, wailing sirens and frequent explosions ripping through the air. Chitauri could be seen overhead, zooming by on their flying crafts. Steve remembered this moment all too well, but actually reliving it was a whole different story. It took him a second to get his wits about him.

"Alright," he finally said, "you know your jobs. Stay low, and keep an eye on the time."

He headed for the Avengers tower on foot. Tony flew on ahead in his Iron Man suit, with Ant-Man catching a ride on his shoulder. Bruce, meanwhile, was reliving some of his... angrier days. He had torn off his shirt and was back to his pants-wearing former self, making a valiant attempt to smash and growl as he made his way to Bleeker Street. Steve, fully outfitted in his Captain America suit from over ten years ago, did his best to avoid detection. Things were winding to an end, at this point. They had stopped Loki, apprehended the scepter and the Tesseract. The tower came into view.

"Better hurry up, Cap." Tony's voice said through his ear piece. "Looks like they're... we're... wrapping things up, here."

"Entering the building, now." Steve replied. The building wasn't hard to get into, what with the number of holes in the walls and blown out windows on just about every floor.

"They've got the Scepter. They're taking the elevators down, now." Tony said.

"I'll intercept."

Steve took the stairs, using his supercharged legs to jump himself up multiple levels at a time. When he got to the sixteenth floor, he stopped and made his way to the elevators. He hit the down button and waited, doing his best to quiet his nerves. When the bell dinged, and the doors opened, there was an elevator full of S.H.I.E.L.D.-turned-Hydra agents waiting inside. Granted, at the time, Steve had no idea these guys were Hydra. That revelation had turned out to be a messy one.

_Well, this brings back memories._ Steve thought. He stepped into the elevator.

"Gentlemen." He turned to face the doors, standing in the middle of a half dozen, if not more, men who would sooner end their own lives than fail their mission.

Hardened soldiers like Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins stood, dressed in black combat gear and armed to the teeth, all around him. Rollins was in front of Steve. He watched as the man's hand slowly inched toward the firearm at his side. They were led by Jasper Sitwell, a ferret in a suit. The shifty-eyed man glanced back at Steve. Nervousness had sweat forming on his brow.

"Cap. I, uh... thought you were on search and rescue." Jasper said.

"Change of plans," Steve replied calmly. "I'm running point on the scepter. Secretary wants me to deliver it to him, myself."

The tension in the elevator increased, tenfold. Brock, a bold and outspoken man, turned to face Steve. "Sorry, Cap. That's not gonna happen."

"It's alright," Steve said, sensing those rising tensions. He held Brock's gaze for a second before turning his attention toward Sitwell. Very casually, Steve leaned in and whispered into the man's ear. "Hail Hydra."

The elevator stopped. The doors dinged and opened out to the fourteenth floor. Steve seamlessly slid the case with the scepter out of the hands of a very shocked Jasper Sitwell. No one moved; no one said a thing as Steve exited the elevator with the case, and thus the scepter, in hand. God, what he wouldn't have given to pummel every single one of those jerks in that elevator. He had to remember his own advice, though. Not to interfere. This was a win, a big win, and even though it might have been more satisfying if he'd left a few broken noses in his wake, Steve couldn't help the smug smirk he wore as he walked away from the elevators.

"I've got the scepter," he informed the others through their comm pieces. "I'm on the fourteenth floor, heading for the-"

Steve paused as he rounded the corner. Standing in front of him, on a catwalk overlooking the many floors below, was... himself.

"Shit." Steve cursed.

"I've got eyes on Loki," his former self said. "And the scepter."

"Not Loki," Steve said as he slowly lowered the case to the ground. He held his hands out to the side, hoping to pose an image of peace. Maybe he could... talk to himself. Reason with him. "I don't wanna hurt you."

Easier said than done.

Steve's younger self ran at him, bringing up his shield in an attempted right blow. Steve blocked with his own shield. The two pieces clanged together noisily, sending sparks flying and a reverberation of force outward. He blocked another shield shot, then quickly leaned back to avoid a spinning kick from his younger self. He spun to deliver a kick of his own, only to catch a knee to the gut that sent him flying backward. He landed on his back and skidded several feet across the Plexiglas floor. He sat up slowly and was more than a little frustrated to see the other him standing several feet away, waiting.

"I can do this all day," younger Cap said.

Steve sighed and started to push himself to his feet. "Yeah, I _know._" He grumbled.

They both acted at the same time, apparently with the same plan, too. Both men threw their shields at each other, only to have them hit, bounce off one another, and go flying in different directions. They wasted no time in running at each other. They closed the distance quickly and began exchanging blows. Steve never thought he'd do something so strange, and so frustrating, as fighting himself, but here he was. Blow after blow was blocked or dodged, only to have another attempt tried and ended the same way. They thought the same and fought the same. They were the same person, after all.

Steve grabbed the next punch directed at his head and looped other Steve's arm around his shoulders. He used his other hand to grab his younger self's leg and heave him up, horizontally over his shoulders. He fell backward, suplexing himself, hard, onto the Plexiglas floor. He rolled out of it immediately, and his counterpart sprung to his feet for another round of blows. At one point, one of them kicked the case. It went flying to the side, breaking the glass side wall of the walkway and plummeting several stories downward. Steve and his counterpart were quick to follow.

They tumbled, end over end, smacking into an outcrop and then a flight of stairs, crashing through some more glass, and eventually coming to a stop several floors down. Pain throbbed in every square inch of his body as he struggled to push himself up onto his hands and knees. Out of his peripheral, he could see his younger self reaching over and grabbing something.

_Shit, _Steve thought for the umpteenth time. The compass.

"Where did you get this?!" His younger self growled, holding the compass with Peggy's photo inside. Steve had never let it go. Even after Peggy's death. Even after moving on with Natasha, he'd held onto it. He thought he probably always would.

Slowly, they both rose to their feet. The compass wasn't the only thing to get exposed from the fall. The case had broken open, and the scepter came loose, skidding out a few feet and finding itself closer to the two of them. Steve made a grab for it, only to have his younger self plant a boot on it and wrap Steve up in a reverse choke hold. He heaved him backwards, and they both hit the floor. Steve grabbed at his counterpart's arm, trying to pull it away from his throat. The air was leaving him, and he felt himself start to go lightheaded.

_Think! _His mind screamed at him. _Do something!_

What could he do? What did he have, now, that the younger version of himself didn't? What strength, what skill, could get him out of this? The edges of his vision were starting to grow dark, and a fuzziness filled his mind. He closed his eyes. That's when it hit him. Strength wasn't going to get him out of this one, but knowledge might.

"Bucky..." Steve choked. "Bucky... is... alive!"

His younger self paused, loosened his grip, and eventually pushed Steve a little bit away. He went up to one knee and looked down at him, surprise on his face. "What did you just say?"

That was all he needed. Steve grabbed the scepter and pressed its point into his younger self's chest. The magic flowed into him, and young Steve was knocked out cold. He hit the floor like a ton of bricks. Steve fell back onto his ass, the scepter in his lap, and took a few, deep breaths. He slowly brought himself to a stand and looked down at himself. He had an appreciation for his own toughness, as weird as it was. Captain America was one hell of a scrapper, that was for sure. Steve had a shiner on his eye and a pain in his body to prove it. He took a few more moments and eventually went to retrieve his shield and reconvene with the others. He found Tony and Scott in an alley a few blocks away. They were sitting in the charred remains of an old Volkswagen. Neither one of them looked pleased.

"What happened?" Steve asked immediately.

"We botched it," Tony said. "We screwed the pooch."

"That's putting it lightly!" Scott yelled. He got out of the car, slamming the door behind him and sending a spray of broken glass to the ground.

Tony revealed, much to Steve's and everyone else's dismay, that they had lost the Tesseract. Things had gone awry on their end, and Loki had somehow made off with the cube. Steve leaned against a dumpster and tilted his head toward the sky, releasing a heavy, heavy sigh. He'd just gotten his ass kicked, by himself, and now they were telling him it was for nothing.

"Well..." he said slowly, "is there anything else we can do?"

"No!" Scott exclaimed. "It was six stones or none. Six stones or none! We screwed the world. We screwed ourselves! This was our one shot, and we blew it! We can't go back, we can't try again! We have enough particles for one trip each. I _told _you guys this!"

Tony was staring off into the distance, looking somewhat lost, from where he sat in the car. Suddenly, Steve saw something click behind his eyes.

"Maybe not." Stark said. He got out of the car. "There... th-there may be another way. We can get the Tesseract _and _more particles for another trip."

"What?" Scott looked lost.

Tony ignored him and focused on Steve. "Old military installment in Jersey ring any bells?"

Steve perked a brow. Bells were indeed ringing, but that could've been a result of falling ten floors. "Are you sure?"

"I'm kind of sure."

"What are you guys talking about?" Scott asked.

"If you're wrong, we aren't coming back." Steve said. He needed Tony to know what that meant. He didn't think Stark would forget the stakes, not with what he'd left behind in their time, but he needed to be sure. Sometimes Tony had a way of getting blinded by the mission, and losing sight of everything else that mattered.

"You're just gonna have to trust me on this one," Tony said. "Think you can do that?"

Steve stared at his old friend long and hard. Scott was still asking twenty-one questions a couple feet away from them, frantically pacing back and forth. Steve took a deep breath, turned to Lang, and extended the scepter toward him.

"Take this back to our timeline." He told him.

"What?!" Scott took the scepter with no shortage of panicked confusion. "What are you guys doing?"

"We have a way of getting the Tesseract and more Pym particles," Tony told Scott. "It's going to take both of us, though, so you're gonna have to take the scepter back without us. Think you can handle that, Lang?"

Scott narrowed his gaze for a second, looking at them as if he were being tested. Steve looked back at him expectantly. "We need you to do this, Scott. We're counting on you."

That seemed to do the trick. Scott's inner fanboy kicked in and gave him the confidence, and the trust, to go back without them. He nodded and took a few steps back. "You can count on me." He said.

"Alright, put in these coordinates," Tony said. He started naming off numbers that Steve very cautiously pressed into his wrist piece. He tuned out Scott's votes of confidence in the background; he tuned out his own worry blaring like trumpet fare in his mind. He told himself he had to do this. He told himself it was the right call. Tony wouldn't be making it if it wasn't. He wouldn't risk not going back to his family.

Steve confirmed the coordinates.

Next thing he knew, it was 1970.


	18. Vormir

Morag wasn't a pretty place. The planet was dusty and desolate, with high winds and angry little spiky-spined lizards who took it upon themselves to nip at any boot that came close to them. Natasha didn't know what she'd been expecting, but she didn't think it was this. She supposed she shouldn't have gotten too high of hopes, the planet's name alone sounded unpleasant. Granted, it was just a pit stop, and she and Clint were sure to be heading onto a far less pleasant planet, but she couldn't help but feel a little bad for leaving Nebula and Rhodey here.

"It'll be fine," Rhodey told her for the third time. "From the sounds of it, getting the stone from this Quill guy should be easy."

Nebula nodded her agreement. "He _is _an idiot."

"You just get to Vormir," Rhodey said. "Get that stone, and get home."

Natasha nodded and took one last look at the gray planet around her. She gave Rhodey a hug before heading back toward the Benetar. Those seemed customary nowadays, the hugs. Natasha would've never considered herself an "affectionate" person before, but after a life on the run, secluded from her dearest friends, followed by a battle that took most of them from her, she figured it was understandable that she showed her appreciation for who she did have left. After goodbye's were exchanged, she and Clint headed for the ship.

"You two watch each others' backs." Rhodey called to them.

Natasha looked over her shoulder at the veteran and smiled. "Always." Her green eyes swiveled over to Clint, who was nodding sagely at Rhodey. They would keep each other safe. Perhaps better than any other two people.

They boarded the ship and took off. Nebula had set the coordinates in for them ahead of time, so there wasn't much to do but sit back and enjoy the ride.

"Never been to space before." Clint said, stating the obvious.

Natasha looked over at him and grinned. "It grows on you."

This, of course, was her second trip. Hopefully it would be far more successful than her first. She'd recounted the details of their trip to Titan II to Clint before. He was sorry that he hadn't been there with them, not that it would have made much of a difference. Thanos would be dead, either way, and they would still be without the stones. If anything, Natasha was glad that Clint had been saved the disappointment. She saw what it did to Thor. She didn't want to see someone else she cared about experience that kind of depression. It hadn't been great for her and Steve either.

Star-sprinkled darkness zoomed by them at an alarming rate. The various gaseous dusts and particles in the universe around them were alive with color. Yellows, oranges, blues and purples made for a kaleidoscope of color and light that they tunneled through at hyper speed. The ship rocked with the turbulence of their flight, but neither Natasha nor Clint could be bothered by it. They were both too enveloped in the experience.

"This is a long way from Budapest!" Clint said over the noise.

Natasha chuckled and shook her head. That was the understatement of the century.

Eventually, the ship came out of its jump and found itself floating in Vormir's orbit. The sudden change in speed was disorienting, but after taking a moment to gather herself, Natasha was able to begin the ship's descent to the planet. As autopilot took over, she unbuckled herself from her seat and stood up, moving to the rear deck to take in the view through the windows, there.

"Under different circumstances," Clint said from beside her, "this would be... really cool."

She couldn't argue with that. While abandoned, Vormir didn't have quite the desolate feel that Morag did. It was a planet of smooth, sprawling dunes sprinkled with pools of dark water. The eclipsed moon hung, fat and heavy in the sky, casting everything both above and below in a sort of purple tint. In the distance, a craggy, mountainous structure rose up from the ground. It was jagged and rough, a stark contrast to the smooth terrain on which it stood. Natasha stared at it for a few moments. She hadn't forgotten Nebula's story, of how Thanos came into possession of the stone. Of course, they were on Vormir in 2014, before Thanos even knew of the planet's importance.

She hoped things would go different for them than they did for Nebula's sister.

"Ready?" She asked Clint. "We've got a long climb ahead of us."

Clint nodded and hit the button to lower the ship's loading ramp. "Let's get this over with," he said.

Natasha took her first, heavy steps into the sand. It was amazing, to think that there were so many other planets out there that a person could step foot on and be able to actually breathe. There was oxygen here, and there was water, yet there didn't seem to by any signs of life. It wasn't that it had been here, once, and ceased to exist, either. Natasha got the feeling that there had never been anything here, though she couldn't quite grasp why. She decided not to think too hard on it, though. The second she did, an uneasy feeling started to settle in the pit of her stomach.

She focused on the trek, instead. She and Clint navigated their way over the gently rolling dunes, splashed through some of that murky water, and eventually found themselves at the foot of the mountain. The ascent wasn't steep, but rather a winding passage that gradually climbed its way up the rocky structure. The higher they got, the cooler the air became, and, eventually, flurries of snow began to swirl around them. It collected on the ground in some spots, making the footing a bit slick. Natasha remained cautious, though, and Clint was diligent by her side, offering a steadying hand whenever needed.

"So, you and Rogers, huh?" Clint spoke up at one point. Natasha guessed it was to fill the silence or keep his mind occupied. Or both.

"You have a problem with that?" She replied, a quizzical brow perked.

"No, no." He was quick to shake his head. "Just surprising, what with him being the boy wonder, and all." He cast a grin at her. "Never thought you'd go for the goody two shoes."

Natasha shrugged. "He's flawed, just like the rest of us. Besides, I didn't _go _for anyone. It just sort of... happened."

Steve wasn't perfect. He made mistakes. Life had put him in tough situations, asked him to make impossible decisions, and then kicked him for whatever he did decide on. It didn't make him any less of a good man, though. If anything, it made him that much more relatable. The years had thrown a lot of things at them. There were a lot of aftereffects to those things, but one of the good ones was that Natasha and Steve saw eye to eye on a lot of things. A lot more than they used to.

"He makes me a better person," she said. "And I... keep him grounded."

Clint chuckled. "Yeah, that's one word for it." His smile slowly fell. "I'm sure Laura called it the same thing."

Natasha frowned. She stopped walking and placed a hand on Clint's arm, forcing him to stop as well. When he met her gaze, he shook his head a few times.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to go there."

"No." Natasha sighed. "I... I can't imagine what it was like, Clint." And she couldn't. Natasha never had what Clint did, so she didn't know what it was like to have the only things that mattered to you in this world stripped away from you without rhyme or reason. Not in the way that he did. Part of her was thankful she was so early into the pregnancy when the snap happened. Anything else might have broken her. Losing Steve would have broken her.

"But that's why we're here, now." She continued with a smile. "We're going to do whatever it takes to-"

"Welcome." A voice said.

Natasha and Clint spun around together, Clint drawing his sword and Natasha quickly pulling out her gun. They stood side by side, weapons trained and eyes on the source of the sound. A hooded figure seemed to float above the rock several feet in front of them. The tattered ends of its black robes flapped violently in the cold wind.

"Natasha, daughter of Ivan." The stranger said. "Clint, son of Edith."

Natasha exchanged glances with Clint. A cold feeling slid down her spine, making her muscles feel tense. She gripped her gun a little harder as she took a few, cautious steps toward the figure. Its voice suggested it to be a male, but everything about it was cloaked in shadow, making it difficult to make out any other details. It didn't move as they approached, but stayed floating in place.

"Who are you?" She asked, doing her best to stifle the chill forming on her skin.

"You may consider me a guide," the figure said. "To all those who seek the stone."

"Perfect," Natasha said. "Why don't you just tell us where it is, and we'll be on our way?" She stared down the sight of her gun, finger poised on the trigger. She would hate to have to shoot their "guide", but this guy was seriously giving her the creeps.

Suddenly, he started floating forward. "If only it were that easy."

The figure emerged from the shadows, and Natasha immediately regretted her curiosity. His face was a mask of red skin pulled tight over protruding cheek and brow bones. He had no nose, and the space beneath his cheeks was sunken in. Even as everything in her wanted to look away in disgust, Natasha couldn't peel her eyes away from the sight. Something about this... thing... seemed strangely familiar. It stared at Natasha with hollow eyes for several, long seconds, before turning suddenly. Its tattered robes flapped noisily with the sudden motion.

"Come," he said, and he began to ascend the mountainside.

Natasha exchanged another glance with Clint. It felt like there was a vice grip on her gut, squeezing her insides tightly as if in some sort of warning. There was an ominous feeling hanging over them. Natasha's brain was telling her to turn back, but her heart couldn't forget the look on Clint's face when she found him in Tokyo. She couldn't forget the sadness in his eyes; the torment and anguish over the idea of hope. She couldn't forget what they were here for.

"Let's go." She said. She holstered her gun and followed the strange figure up the mountain.

The rest of the journey was made in silence. Natasha's legs and lungs were burning by the time they made that final step up onto the flat ground of the cliffside. The wind was whipping more fiercely, here, and the cold air bit at her face and ears. There were thick clouds all around them, diffusing the light in the sky into a sort of overall glow. It should've been beautiful, but Natasha couldn't help but to think it ghastly. She stood at the edge of the cliff and looked down for what seemed like forever.

"What you seek lies before you," the figure said, "as does what you fear."

A shiver ran down her spine. "The stone is down there..." it was a guess, though she was pretty sure it was a correct one.

"In order to get that which you seek, you must lose that which you love." He said. "An everlasting exchange. A soul... for a soul."

Clint stood beside her, and his presence made the weight of those words settle like a planet itself on Natasha's shoulders. Two of them made the trek up the mountain. Only one of them was making it back.

As if sensing her thoughts, Clint gently took hold of her wrist. "Come on," he said as he pulled her away from the edge. "Let's talk about this." Then, he glanced over to the red-faced man. "We can talk about this, right?"

The man said nothing, but made a sweeping gesture with his arm, suggesting the space was theirs. Clint led Natasha a few yards away, a distance he probably deemed safe, before he released his grip on her. Without his support, even as minimal as it was, Natasha suddenly felt... astoundingly tired. The weight of it all became too much, and she plopped down to a sit on a large stone. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and stared off into the distance.

For awhile, nothing was said. All she could do was think. Think and feel. Natasha knew the pain of losing something, but to experience the pain _before _that loss, knowing of its inevitable arrival? It was worse. Much worse. Fear and desperation swirled around inside of her like the snow swirling above her head. She was thankful for the cold, stinging her eyes and giving her an excuse for the tears that were trying to form there.

"I think I always knew," she said at last, "that a moment like this would come along." Her eyelashes fluttered. She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced her green eyes to roll up toward Clint.

"It was never easy, before, but... there was always that chance, you know? That what we wanted would come at the cost of something like this."

"Nat..."

"But that's okay." She stood up quickly, steeling herself to near future. "We knew. Billions of lives," she shrugged one shoulder, "it was never going to be easy. Whatever it takes, right?"

Clint placed his hands firmly on top of her shoulders. "Natasha, it's gotta be me." The sadness in his eyes brought the tears back to Natasha's. "You've already done so much. And I know what you and Steve have been trying to build. You deserve to live."

"And you don't?" She replied quickly.

"Not after the things I've done."

"And what about the things _I've _done. You were supposed to kill me for those things. You didn't. You think I _want _to do this?" She took a deep, shaky breath. The tears were falling freely down her cheeks, now.

No, she didn't _want _to do any of this. Natasha _wanted _to live. Even with all they lost, for the first time in her life, she had something worth living for. She had something to go back to. She had some_one _to go back to. Steve would be waiting for her, and the thought of never seeing him again tore a hole in her chest. The thought of not getting to say goodbye... God, the pain that it would cause him. The last thing in the world Natasha ever wanted to do was hurt him. But could she use that as an excuse to ignore the billions of lives they were trying to save, here?

Steve's own words echoed in her mind.

_We don't trade lives..._

But even as she thought that, Natasha found herself speaking. "You saved my life, Clint. Now let me return the favor."

"No," Clint said firmly. "I'm not gonna let you do that."

Then, he swept Natasha's legs out from under her and sent her to the ground, hard. The wind left her in one, sudden gust, emptying her lungs and leaving her dazed and coughing. Clint had one hand pressed to her chest, holding her down. They locked gazes. His eyes said he wasn't going to give this one up. Natasha's said the same. She clubbed her fist into Clint's arm and knocked it off of her chest. Then, she rolled, bringing a leg up and kicking Clint in the side of his shoulder to send him to the ground, instead. Natasha popped up to one knee over top of him, aimed her tasers down at him, and fired an electrical net at his chest.

Natasha stood up, turned, and ran.

She wasn't sure how her body kept moving. The fear should've been paralyzing. The sadness should've been crippling. Her legs should have given out, and she should have fallen to the ground, a miserable, weeping mess. But the cliffside was steadily approaching. She could see the edge, the last few feet before the abyss. Her body kept moving; kept going toward the very thing she wanted nothing more than to turn and run away from.

_I'm sorry, Steve._

An explosion to her left sent Natasha flying toward the right. She hit the ground and rolled, landing on her stomach. Her ears were ringing as she coughed, struggling to push herself back up to her hands and knees. She raised her head; saw Clint throw his bow to the ground and start sprinting toward the edge of the cliff. Natasha grunted through the pain and pushed herself up.

"No!" She screamed.

She ran after Clint just as he leaped over the edge. She reached forward.

Her fingers found air.

"CLINT!" Her scream echoed across the mountain.

Natasha fell to her knees and watched her friend free fall into nothing. Her whole body shook with violent trembles. She turned her head away, unable to watch as Clint fell the rest of the way down. After a second of deafening silence, Natasha forced herself to open her eyes. She forced herself to peer over the edge, down through the swirling snow, and to the bottom of the cliff. Maybe it was just a test. Maybe the red-faced man was full of shit and just wanted to see who had the nerves to do what others couldn't. Yet, even as she hoped, she knew...

She saw him laying there, still and lifeless at the bottom of the cliff. A pool of blood slowly trickled out from beneath his head.

Clint was dead.

Clint was dead, and Natasha was, too. Her heart had been ripped from her chest and stomped mercilessly. It had been thrown over the edge of that goddamn cliff and landed on the stone below, just as broken as the body of her oldest friend. She screamed through her tear-filled pain and drew her gun. She spun violently around to train it on the cloaked bastard and demand that he bring bring Clint back. But the red-faced man was gone. Clint was gone. She was alone. All of Natasha's strength flooded out of her. Her arms and legs grew heavy. She fell to her knees and dropped her gun. She hung her head, trembling with cold and sadness, and let the tears fall freely from her eyes. As she cried, she was barely aware of a heavy feeling settling over her shoulders. Like falling asleep, or waking up from it.

Then, before she knew it, darkness took her.


	19. Goodbyes

"Tony, this is ridiculous." Steve said, his voice hushed and urgent. "You really think this is going to work?"

"It has to," Tony's voice sounded in Steve's earpiece. "If not... I hope you like bell bottoms."

Steve sighed and shook his head. Given Tony's chuckle, he was pretty sure the man could practically see Steve's dismay. They had infiltrated the military base in New Jersey, 1970. With some stolen clothes and, in Steve's case, some well-placed sunglasses, they hoped they would blend in with their surroundings. Tony's face wasn't known, here, as he hadn't come into the world yet. Steve, on the other hand... Well, it'd been roughly thirty years since he'd gone into the ice, and apparently he was still somewhat of a legend around here. He'd have to be careful.

"I'm heading to the lower levels," Tony said.

"Alright. I'll get the particles. Reconvene in ten. We're on a tight schedule here, Tony."

He didn't think Tony needed to be reminded, but it didn't hurt to jog his sense of urgency a bit. They broke communication, and Steve started carefully meandering through hallways. He and Tony had taken an elevator into the compound, doing their best to shy away from the curious glances of a woman that had been with them. Steve kept the military cap pulled low to help cover more of his face. He sincerely wished he would've still had his beard for this. It would have made things much easier.

While Tony went to get his hands on the Tesseract, Steve went in search of more Pym Particles. Their knowledge of S.H.I.E.L.D. history was extremely important in the contingency plan that formed after their failure in New York. Tony had devised the plan, of course. Steve just had to trust him enough to go along with it and hope that it would work. The base was crawling with soldiers, scientists, and security. Getting what they needed and getting out, without attracting unwanted attention, would be quite the task.

To be honest, Steve wasn't entirely sure where he was going. All he knew was that he needed to find the office or work space of Dr. Hank Pym to locate the particles needed to take Tony and himself back to the present. He peeked through doorways and office windows as he walked the halls, doing his best not to seem suspicious. It felt like forever, slowly ticking minutes of tightly-wound nerves, before Steve found what he was looking for. Pym's name was neatly written in bold lettering on a nameplate attached to his office door. The man had an ego. No wonder he and Howard Stark didn't get along.

Steve checked the halls, slipped into the office, and walked back to a small lab area. A stasis chamber-like device sat behind a small, glass enclosure. It hummed quietly from some unseen power source. It looked like some sort of metallic pod, inside which were several, small vials containing the familiar, red Pym particles.

"Gotcha."

He couldn't help the small, triumphant grin that formed on his face when he opened the glass, reached in, and took two vials. Steve was half-expecting some sort of alarm to start sounding, and he waited for a few, tense seconds for something to go wrong. Nothing happened, though. No sirens, no blinking lights; nothing. Maybe they were having a stroke of good luck. It was definitely needed after the debacle in New York City. Steve tucked the vials into his pocket and headed for the door.

He opened it a crack and heard voices nearby. Someone was approaching. No, not just someone. It was Pym. _Damn it... _Steve thought as he closed the door and backed into the room. He looked around for another way out. There was a door at the far end of the office. Steve wasn't sure where it led, but he was sure he couldn't go out the way he came in. So, he made for the other door. He found himself in another office. This one was smaller, its lights turned off. There was a desk, a filing cabinet, and little else. Steve circled around the desk and saw something that made him pause.

It was a picture... of himself. The scrawny kid from Brooklyn, lifetimes ago. He felt his heart skip a beat. He took another step, toward the front of the desk, where a nameplate sat, poised toward the door. He was about to look at it, when muffled voices sounded from Pym's office. Steve turned toward the small window that looked into the office. The blinds were open just enough for him to peek through. That's when he saw her.

Peggy. God, she looked great. Her hair was starting to gray a bit, but it only added distinguished character to her already regal presence. The sight of her, the sound of her voice, opened up an ache in Steve's chest that he thought had finally closed. He couldn't have been more wrong. Saying that he ever stopped missing her would've been a lie. Saying that he didn't wish he could go back and do things differently- especially now, with the knowledge that, technically, he could- would've been a joke. Peggy Carter was the first woman he ever loved. For the longest time, he thought she'd be the _only _woman he ever loved.

Natasha had never once questioned him about it. She'd never told him to forget Peggy; to move on. She'd been sympathetic to Steve's pain, even if she couldn't understand it, herself. She'd always been understanding. The thoughts he was having now, the pain and longing, felt like an insult to all that understanding. Still, Steve couldn't help the way his fingers itched to reach for the door; to open it, to see Peggy, to hold her one last time.

Tony's voice broke into his train of thought. "Got the goods, Cap. Let's get a move on."

Steve was reminded of the mission at hand. The fog lifted from his brain, and after a few, long breaths, he stepped away from the window. It felt like there were weights on his feet, chains trying to drag him back, but he headed for the opposite door and made his way out of the office and back out into the hallway. His feet carried him quickly, after that, his body acting without his brain really telling him to. He all but ran away from the feeling that he left behind in Peggy's office, but regret still followed him like a shadow.

He navigated the halls until he found the elevators once more. Steve took himself topside, circled around the side of the building, and waited for Tony by some Jeeps. He had his sunglasses back on, hands tucked in his pockets while he rocked back and forth on his heels a few times. He waited for what felt like too long. He spent too much time being left alone with his thoughts. Steve would've never in a million years expected to see Peggy, here. That just wasn't something he'd prepared himself, for. Now, he felt like the past was reaching out a hand and grabbing him tightly, trying to tug him back into it. Back to simpler times. Before time travel and Thanos and the snap. God, what would things have been like if he hadn't gone into that ice all those years ago?

Finally, Tony showed up. He looked just as turned around as Steve felt.

"You good?" Steve asked.

Tony looked down at the metal briefcase in his hand, then back up to Steve. He nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Just, uh... ran into some unexpected company."

_That makes two of us. _Steve thought.

"Let's go." Tony said.

They programmed their devices, suited up, and made the jump.

In the blink of an eye, the portal opened, and Steve found himself standing on the platform. His suit and helmet recoiled back into the infinitely small tech it started out as, leaving Steve in his borrowed uniform from the 70's. He turned to his left and saw Natasha standing next to him. It was only a second, though, before she started to waver. She was as pale as a ghost. Thinking she was disoriented from the travel, Steve quickly went to her side. He placed a steadying hand between her shoulder blades. She was looking down. Something was clutched tightly in her hands.

"Nat?" He asked, concern pinching his brows together. "Are you okay?" He became suddenly aware of the fact that Natasha was alone. Clint wasn't with her.

"Natasha, what-"

"I lost him!" She cried, her voice raspy and broken. The words sent a wave of sadness through her that shook her body and sagged her shoulders, as if they were pushed down by some immeasurable weight. She took a deep, shaky breath and slowly lifted her head. Her tear-filled eyes stared up at Steve, piercing him like a lance through the heart.

"I tried," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "I tried to... to..." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I just got him back, and I... I lost him!" Her face scrunched up in a painful scowl. She squeezed the stone in her hand so tightly that it began to bite into her palm, even through the protective glove she wore.

"It should've been me."

Her eyes could no longer hold back the dam of her tears. They were quiet, but they stole the breath from her lungs and the words from her mouth. She was unable to speak; she couldn't even move off the platform without help. She stood, rooted in place, before Steve gently cupped her elbow and led her down.

"Steve..." Tony said cautiously.

"I've got it." Steve replied, his voice solemn. Tony stepped aside to make way for Steve to escort Natasha off the platform. The rest watched, silent, as he slowly walked her out of the room.

The world was a blur of nothing. There was no sound, no light; no color. Natasha was numb to everything but the pain in her heart. She was hardly even aware of Steve walking her to their room and sitting her on the edge of the bed. She didn't really notice anything... until he knelt before her and began to pry the stone out of her hand.

"No!" She protested quietly, squeezing her hand closed again. "It's... it's all I..."

"Natasha..." Steve could feel her pain. It made his own eyes sting with the threat of tears, his brows slanting in sadness. There was a lot he was unsure of, but he knew one thing for certain. Clint was gone. He could feel the absolute certainty of that in the form of the sadness that radiated off of Natasha. The sadness of losing Clint was only made worse by the pain that Natasha was in. Steve could feel it as if it were his own.

"Nat, it's okay. It's okay..." He was gentle and quiet, slowly working the stone out of her hand and immediately replacing it with his. He squeezed her fingers and placed his other hand on the side of her face, attempting to wipe away the seemingly never ending onslaught of tears that fell from her bright green hues. Her eyes stared vacantly at a spot just in front of her, tears shimmering in the dim light of the room.

It took several minutes for her to be able to talk.

"He was supposed to be with his family," she whispered. "That.. that was the whole point. Of all of this." Natasha squeezed her eyes closed and allowed a few more tears to slip from between her lashes.

Steve didn't know what to say. He hurt for Natasha. He hurt for her loss. He knew exactly what it felt like, to have your best friend slip from your grasp, gone forever. He knew what it was like to lose someone so important to you, you didn't know how you would ever get on without them. He shared in her pain and her grief, but he also felt pain of his own. Pain that Natasha was willing to die, to throw everything away; to leave him without saying good-bye.

_It should've been me._

Her words from earlier echoed in Steve's mind. The idea of losing her hurt him more than he could ever describe. The thought of not having her in his life... He wasn't sure that was something he'd be able to recover from. He loved Natasha with all of his heart and soul. She _was _his soul. Seeing her like this, knowing what caused it; knowing it could've gone the other way... One moment, one millisecond, of difference could've meant Clint returning with the stone and not Natasha. It made Steve hate himself for what he'd felt back at that military base.

That thought made him look down at the orange stone in his hand. Was it all worth it? He squeezed his fingers tightly around the stone. They would have to make damn sure it was.

"I shouldn't have brought him back," Natasha's quiet voice broke into his train of thought. "I'm the reason he's dead."

"No," Steve said immediately, his voice firmer than he intended. He placed his hand beneath Nat's chin and lifted her gaze to meet his. "If you wouldn't have brought him back, then it would've been someone else on that cliff with you."

_Someone not strong enough to make the choice that Clint made_, he thought.

"It was an impossible task, no matter what, and I am so sorry that you had to be the one to go through it."

Steve sat up a little taller, enough so he could place his hand on the back of Natasha's head and pull her into his chest. He rested his chin on the crown of her head and closed his eyes for a moment. He was an idiot for thinking that this day would come without costs. He was a fool for thinking that anyone would be up for the task of Vormir, and he was an even bigger fool for letting Natasha be one of the people to go there.

He held her like that for a few minutes, until Nat sniffled, sat up, and wiped her face with the backs of her hands. Her eyes were solemn, empty, and all of the color had left her face. Steve didn't know when it would return. He didn't know if it ever would.

"I..." She started, then paused to clear her throat. "I think I need to be alone for a bit." She forced herself to make eye contact with him, to be firm and resolute, strong enough to be left alone.

Steve hated the thought, but he understood. And he respected Natasha's wishes. He nodded and leaned forward to place his lips against her forehead. He closed his eyes as he kissed her, taking a deep breath in an attempt to steady his rapidly beating heart. When he pulled away, it was just enough to look into her eyes again.

"I love you," he stated firmly, so she couldn't forget. "And I'm here when you need me."

Natasha nodded, but said nothing. Steve reluctantly pulled away from her and left her alone, quietly closing the door behind him. He stood there outside of it for a few moments, taking time to collect himself. The others would want to talk. They would want explanations; they would have questions. And if he didn't answer them, then they would turn them to Natasha eventually. He had to shield her from that. For as long as he could. So, he went off to find them.

Bruce, Thor and Tony were outside, sitting on the dock by the lake behind the building.

"How is she?" Tony asked.

"Not good," Steve said. He took a seat on the bench. "She blames herself. Thinks it should've been the other way around."

"It shouldn't have been _any _way!" Thor bellowed. He was pacing angrily. "It doesn't have to be. We have the stones. We can go back. We can get him!"

"No," Bruce said. "We can't." He was calm, but solemn, standing with his back facing the others and just gazing out at the lake before them. "It can't be undone. Clint knew that. He knew that and he made the call anyway."

The four of them were silent for a while, each of them dwelling in their own thoughts; their own grief. Thor, who had seen so many friends and family die already, was beside himself with having to lose yet another friend. Tony was remarkably quiet. He knew what it all meant, Steve thought. He knew that there was no going back. Not now. The best thing they could do was move forward and make sure that this wasn't all for nothing. Steve opened his hand and looked down at the stone in it. The orange glow seemed to pull at the others, each one of them eventually dragging their gaze over to it. It was so small, but it held such an insurmountable weight to it. More than any of the other stones.

"So..." Thor finally broke the silence. "What do we do?"

Steve looked up, glancing at each of the others in turn. "We make it count," he said. "We get Clint's family back. We get everyone back."


	20. The Fight of Our Lives (Part 1)

They taught Natasha a lot of things in the Red Room. They taught her that love was a weakness; a vulnerability. They taught her that any single thing that you cared about in this world was just one more thing that your enemy could take away from you. In order to excel, in order to survive, you had to detach yourself from everyone and everything. You had to become everyone and no one all at the same time. You could have nothing. Not even yourself. Over the years, she had very different relationships with those lessons. At first, there was blind acceptance. The lessons were all she'd ever known. So, to her, they were right. After awhile, though, her view changed. She met Clint. She met Steve and the other Avengers, and she learned what it was like to be a part of something bigger than herself. She learned what it was like to be a team, to be a family, and she learned that there was strength in those things, too. Still, even with all that, she understood the lessons the Red Room taught her. She even wished she would've adhered to them a little better. It would have saved her a lot of pain.

But she couldn't imagine a life in which she never knew Clint Barton. Even though losing him hurt worse than she could've imagined, she couldn't regret being his friend. Not for one second. Her only wish was that she could've done better by him. He deserved more than what he'd gotten. He deserved to be with his family. Natasha had come to terms over the last forty-eight hours with the fact that, that wasn't going to happen. It made her want to give up, but she knew she couldn't. There was no chance for Clint, but there was still a chance for his family. Surely he would want them brought back, even if it was in a world without him. Natasha would do everything she could to make sure that happened. And then, she would spend the rest of her life giving them everything she possibly could. It would never be enough, she knew. She couldn't give them their father, their husband, but she could help keep his memory alive, and she could ensure that Laura and the kids were safe. Always.

Natasha stood in the kitchen at HQ, a cup of coffee in hand. Her other hand toyed with the small necklace resting at the base of her throat. The tiny, silver arrow had been there for years, but it'd never felt so heavy as it did these past two days. She ran her fingers over the metallic surface of the charm as she looked out the window, out at the lake. They'd had a small service for Clint there, yesterday. It didn't feel like enough. Nothing would. He deserved statues in his name, but all they'd been able to give him was a short memorial. They'd shared memories; talked about the great friend, the great man, they'd lost. It didn't provide closure, but at least it was something.

"How you holding up?" Steve's voice sounded behind her. He was the only one brave enough, close enough to her, to ask that question.

Natasha turned her head to look over her shoulder. She watched him walk into the kitchen. He wore a soft, sympathetic look. Natasha gave him a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and turned her gaze back toward the window.

"I'm still here." She said with a shrug.

Steve came to stand beside her. He placed a hand on her back, rubbing a few, small circles between her shoulder blades. Nat could feel something radiating off of him. It felt a bit like apprehension; some tense bubble wavering around him. Her green eyes slid toward him, brows knitting together in slight concern.

"What is it?" She asked.

He didn't say anything at first. Instead, he kept his blue eyes forward. Natasha could see the thoughts swirling behind them. Troubled thoughts. She was afraid it meant something had gone wrong with the stones. Tony, Bruce and Rocket had been working to develop another gauntlet that would contain them. It was a very delicate process, as they were dealing with the equivalent of galactic C-4. One wrong calculation could have catastrophic effects. It could mean the difference between everything and nothing.

"I've been thinking," Steve finally said, "about... what happened. In Vormir." He turned toward her.

That word, alone, was enough to make Natasha tense up a bit. She felt a painful squeeze in her heart, and it took every ounce of her resolve not to crumble beneath the weight of it. She blinked quickly, clearing away the tears that threatened to sting her eyes. She told herself that enough tears had been cried and shedding any more would only serve to be counterproductive. She needed to keep her chin up and keep moving forward. It's what Clint would've wanted her to do. She couldn't mope around like a sulking mess.

"About what you were willing to do." Steve continued. "But it's not fair to be upset about it without telling you."

Natasha furrowed her brow and turned to face him. "Without telling me what?" She set her coffee down on the counter and folded her arms across her chest.

"New York was a bust," Steve said. "We lost the Tesseract, so Tony and I made another jump. To 1970, that old military installment in Jersey. We were there to get the Tesseract, and more particles to get us back home."

Natasha frowned. Making that jump meant using up the particles intended to get them home in the first place. If something had gone wrong, or if they hadn't been able to get more particles, it meant they would've been stranded there. The way that made her feel... well, she thought she knew where this was going. Steve was going to tell her what her decision would've done to him by painting a similar picture for her. He was going to guilt her; gently scold her by telling her that she'd been reckless, even though he was guilty of the same thing. That's what she thought, anyway.

"When we were there, I... I saw Peggy."

"Oh..."

"We didn't talk," he said. "I don't even think she saw me, but... there was a second that I wished she had."

"Why are you telling me this?" Natasha asked. There was the slightest amount of bite to her tone.

"Because getting back and realizing how close I was to losing you... God, it made me feel like a world class idiot."

Natasha wasn't quite sure where Steve was going with this, or what he intended. She was too rattled by stress and grief to see anything good in it. She was too hurt to see past the little seed of anger that was starting to sprout in the back of her mind. It poked its head up from the dirt and threatened to blossom. She was vulnerable right now, she knew. She was being affected by things that she might not have been otherwise. Some of that steely resolve she was so famous for had slipped away. It fell off the side of that cliff with Clint, and it was likely never going to come back. The wound it left was still open and raw; the perfect environment for the tiny ounce of jealousy she was feeling to fester and grow.

"So," she said, "you weren't sure what you wanted... until you realized what I was willing to do in Vormir."

"What?" Steve looked hurt; confused. "No. Natasha, that's not what I'm-"

"Uh... sorry to interrupt." Rocket's voice sounded from the doorway. Natasha wasn't sure if she wanted to kiss him or kill him for his timing. "But I think we've got the glove thing figured out." He hooked a tiny thumb over his shoulder. "Tony figured we should all, you know, be there."

"Sure." Natasha was quick to reply. "We're right behind you."

Rocket turned and headed back down the hall. She watched him go, aware of Steve looking at her. She could see his slightly confused expression from the corner of her eye. She turned to face him fully after a second.

"We can talk about this later," she said. They had more important things to attend to, first.

Steve didn't object, though he seemed to deflate a little. Natasha forced herself to ignore the tension that was tightening like a noose around her neck and the weight that was pressing down on her shoulders. She lead the way out of the kitchen, and Steve followed silently behind. They made their way to the lab where the others had been working. Tony used his Iron Man prototypes as a large influence to the design for the new gauntlet. The impossibly complex technology would hopefully hold the stones and distribute their flow of power evenly throughout, to avoid any sort of explosions or overloads. Five of the six stones were in place. The sixth was being held carefully between metallic prongs, controlled remotely by Tony via small devices he wore on his own fingers. It was the soul stone.

Natasha came to a stop and watched with a surprising amount of ache in her chest as Tony very delicately manipulated his fingers, controlling the metallic prongs to bring the stone closer to the glove. It was the signature red and gold color of his own Iron Man suit, outfitted with divots that the other stones were nestled safely inside. The metal prongs gently lowered the soul stone, and a magnetic _thuck _sounded as the stone was released and secured into the small divot in the glove. There was a crackling of purple electricity that branched out from all the stones, connecting them in a sort of web. The glove absorbed and compensated for the burst of energy, and in a few seconds, the electricity faded away. There were no explosions, no nothing; just a gauntlet fully outfitted with the six stones.

"Well I'll be damned," Tony gawked. "I think it worked!"

There was a collective sigh that passed through the room. Everyone had been holding their breath, waiting for that final moment. They'd been waiting for it for so long. Too long. They'd shed blood, sweat and tears over it. Now, it was over. Tony carefully removed the gauntlet from its glass enclosure, holding it in his hands and observing it. The others moved a bit closer to do the same.

"Great," Scott said, "so... now what."

"Now, we use it." Tony replied.

"How?" Natasha asked. "I mean, it's not like we can just click our heels together and bring everyone home."

"We need to think about this," Steve said. "We saw what using the stones did to Thanos. This thing could shred right through us."

"Then it should be me," Thor chimed in. He stood up from where he'd been sitting in the corner of the room and approached the others.

"You sure about that, bud?" Rocket asked. "You're not exactly in your prime."

"I am a god!" Thor bellowed. "I withstood the blast of a dying star. Surely I can withstand these stones."

"No," Bruce said calmly. "I'll do it." All eyes turned to the green guy, and he shrugged. "We know that this thing pumps out some serious levels of radiation," he told them. "That's... kind of my thing." No one could really argue that.

Still, it was worrisome. "Are you sure?" Natasha asked. Worry was etched into her furrowed brow. She knew that Bruce had accomplished a lot in this sort of symbiotic relationship he'd created between himself and the Hulk, but she was still concerned. Despite everything that happened between them, he was still her friend. She didn't want to lose another one.

Bruce seemed to sense that. "There has to be a reason for all this," he said, holding his arms out at his sides for a second. Then, he nodded and gave her a soft smile. "I'm sure."

The others seemed to accept this option. One by one, they nodded or gave their votes of confidence to the big guy. Tony slowly handed the glove over to him. It looked so small in his large grasp that Natasha didn't know how he could possibly fit his hand in it. But as he slid his fingers up through the opening at the bottom, the glove began to adjust. Metal pieces expanded and rearranged, allowing the gauntlet to become bigger. It encompassed Bruce's hand in its entirety, fitting him, quite literally, like a glove. Like it was made for him. Natasha took a deep, unsteady breath.

"Here goes nothing..." Bruce said.

He lifted his hand, turned his head to the side, closed his eyes and snapped his fingers.

A current of electricity surged out from the glove and crawled up his arm. Bruce's face tensed as he gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain. The strange, purple-hued current reached up past his shoulder and threatened to spread up into his face. Bruce grunted a little louder. Natasha watched, fear snaking up the back of her neck and threatening to squeeze the life right out of her. The pain Bruce appeared to be in seemed intense. She worried that it would never end. She worried it would cripple and maim him like it did Thanos. It took him a great deal of effort, but after a few more, tense moments, Bruce managed to unclench his fist. Slowly, he relaxed his hand, fingers spreading out one by one, and the current subsided. It receded back down his arm and into the glove, where it disappeared completely.

Natasha released a heavy breath. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but this was... much quieter. She looked around, half-expecting some, grand display of power all around them, but there was nothing. Nothing but silence.

"Did it work?" Rhodey asked.

For all intents and purposes... it didn't seem like it had. Natasha frowned as she watched Scott walk out of the room. Her gaze went over to Steve, next. She saw mixed emotions on his face. There was frustration, confusion, and concern there. Natasha felt like she'd just taken a slug to the chest. She couldn't help but to think about Clint. After all they went through, after all this time, could they really have failed again? If this had all been for nothing...

"Uh... guys?" Scott called from the hall.

They stepped out of the lab to see him standing in front of a window that looked out to a courtyard-like area. He was smiling, watching a few birds and butterflies flutter around in the sunlight. Birds and butterflies that had not been there before. Natasha's heart skipped a beat. Scott turned his head and looked at them from over his shoulder. That big, bright smile was still on his face.

"It worked!" He said with a laugh. "It actually-"

No one was ready for what happened next.

The compound was hit by some kind of ballistic missile. The explosion ripped through steel and concrete alike, blowing a huge hole in the building and well into the ground beneath it. Natasha was thrown into darkness and chaos as the blast hit. She fell, end over end, with no sense of direction; no sense of anything except for the pain. She hit her back against something, or rather something hit her. It was promptly followed by a blow to her head that left her dizzy and barely coherent. She must have lost consciousness for a minute, because when she came to, she was somewhere else completely.

It was dark and damp. It smelled like smoke and scorched earth. She was laying on her stomach, with something heavy pinning her legs down. Everything hurt. She could feel something trickling down the side of her head. Water, maybe. No, blood. She reached one hand up to touch her head and pulled away sticky redness. Her fingers trembled as she lowered her hand back to the ground. Green eyes peered through smoke and darkness, trying to see if anyone else was there.

"Hello?!" She called out. "Steve? Tony? Anyone?!"

There was no response. She could hear muted sounds coming from above her. More explosions, maybe. What the hell just happened? Was it the glove? Had it triggered some sort of aftershock? It didn't make sense. Natasha was almost positive the blast had come from above. She struggled against the weight on top of her once more, fingers grasping at dirt and concrete in an attempt to pull herself out from her entrapment. She grunted in pain and exertion as she used every ounce of her strength to free herself. When her efforts failed, Natasha released a frustrated yell. Panic began to creep up inside of her. She was stuck. Natasha was not a fan of being stuck.

"Nat?!" She heard Rhodey's voice, slightly muffled through his War Machine helmet. "Nat, is that you?"

"Rhodey!" She shouted, trying to lift her head to get a glimpse of him. "I'm over here!"

Relief flooded her when she caught sight of him. The glow of his War Machine suit's reactor was like a beacon in the night. His heavy, clanging footsteps carried him over huge chunks of debris as he made his way to her. He came to a stop by the rubble pinning her to the ground.

"Hold on," he said. "I got you."

Rhodey crouched down and got a hold of the rubble. Then, using the hydraulics of his suit, he stood up and slowly lifted the large weight off the ground. Natasha scrambled quickly out from beneath it. She heard Rhodey drop it back down with a heavy thud. Then, he was by her, grabbing her and helping her to her feet.

"Are you hurt?" He asked.

_All over, _she thought. "I'm okay," she told him. Nothing was broken... at least she didn't think so. She could still stand, so that was good. She hadn't tested out her walk, yet, but she was sure there was going to be a bit of a limp from having that rubble on her legs. There was also a distinct pinching in her side that told her she might have cracked a rib somewhere along the lines of bouncing off of debris like a pinball. She wiped some blood from her head and wiped her hand on the side of her pants.

"What the just hell happened?"

"I'm not sure," Rhodey said. "I'm getting readings of multiple air crafts up there."

"Where did they come from?"

Rhodey shook his head. "No idea." He looked at her. "But we better get topside. Can you walk?"

Natasha nodded. Rhodey led the way, and she carefully followed behind him. As expected, she wasn't moving as quickly as she normally did. Rhodey was trying to get a link to Tony to find out what was going on above them. Natasha was trying to tap into her own comm while making sure she didn't lose her footing. She had no idea how far below the building they were, but given the amount of water down here... it must have been pretty far. Her mind went to the others. She worried about them; wondered if everyone had survived. She thought of Steve. Their last conversation. Natasha's words fueled by bitterness.

Something caught her eye.

"Rhodey." She said, interrupting his attempts at communication. "Is that..."

Natasha jogged over to the object, ignoring the pain that traveled up her leg and into her hip. She moved aside a few, smaller pieces of debris and saw the gauntlet sitting below it all. It was a bit scuffed up, but it was fully intact, with all of the stones still in place. She picked it up, holding it in two hands and staring at it for a second before looking to Rhodey. He'd removed his face plate so he could see the gauntlet with his own two eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Tony's voice sounded in his helmet. Rhodey's face fell.

"Son of a bitch," Rhodey said. "It's Thanos's army."

"What?!" Natasha shook her head. "That's impossible. He's-"

"Someone opened the Quantum Tunnel and let him through."

Natasha felt a chill run down her spine. _No... _she thought. _Impossible. Who would...?_

"Nebula?" God... had she been playing them this whole time?

Rhodey shook his head. "We gotta get up there, Nat. We gotta destroy this thing."

There was no argument there. Natasha nodded and started moving again. Rhodey was able to map out a possible path of exit; so they picked up their pace and headed in that direction. The sounds of explosions and gunfire and God knows what else grew louder overhead. Natasha could feel the ground rumble, and she feared the whole place would collapse, leaving them stuck down here for good. But that didn't make sense. If there was fighting going on overhead, why was the earth below them shaking so much? It felt like some of the tremors were originating from even further down. Something made her look over her shoulder. She stopped and peered into the darkness, head turned toward the side, as if listening to something. She could swear she heard something. Like the scurrying of insects or rodents.

"I swear to God, if there are rats down here..." she said.

Rhodey put his face plate back down to get some heat signatures. "Damn..." He said. "Not rats. Worse than rats. Much, much worse."

Out of the darkness came an all-too-familiar sight; one that Natasha had hoped she would never have to see again. The strange, feral, alien creatures that Thanos had unleashed in Wakanda were scurrying through the wreckage; heading straight for them. They scrambled over one another, fighting for dominance and caring little for anything that got in their way. They looked like a river of limbs and claws and teeth. Rhodey was right. Rats would've been much better than this.

"Go!" Rhodey yelled. "Run!"

Adrenaline kicked in, and Natasha took off running. She could hear Rhodey behind her, hitting the things with pulse blasts and gunfire to keep them at bay. She pulled her own gun from the holster at her hip and gripped it tightly. Survival instinct kicked in. She no longer had time to worry about the pain in her leg or the pinch in her side. She needed to get topside if she had any chance of not turning into alien food. As she ran, Natasha tried to keep her eyes and ears open. She heard scurrying from above her. She leaned her head back and looked up just in time to see a handful of those... _things _trying to make their way down from an opening overhead. She fired three, well-placed shots that lodged a bullet into the head of each alien and sent them plummeting down behind her.

Slick, sloping earth caused her to trip. She slipped, landed on her ass, and slid down with some cascading water over mud and rubble. It hurt like hell, but Natasha was able to keep a grip on both the gauntlet and her gun. Putting the glove on would've given her one less thing to carry, but she didn't dare slip her hand into that death trap. Bruce had barely kept its destructive power at bay. Natasha knew it would eat its way through her in a second if she tried to use it. So, she just clutched it to her chest, popped back up to her feet, and kept running.

There was an opening up ahead, with some light coming in from above. Natasha could see a pile of debris that she should be able to climb up and, hopefully, get to ground level. She dared a glance over her shoulder. Rhodey had fallen behind. She could still see him, but he was a ways back. More than she was comfortable with. She paused, turned around, and started shooting. Bullets whizzed by her friend and planted themselves into the aliens he was trying to keep back.

"I've got this!" He yelled to her. "Just get up there and get rid of that thing!"

"I'm not-"

"Just go!"

Natasha growled, but ultimately she knew Rhodey was right. There wasn't much she could do that the War Machine suit couldn't already do for him. So, she turned and started running again. She wiped at her face with the back of her hand, trying to clear away the blood that was threatening to drip down into her eye. Her pain was starting to set in again, but she pushed it to the back of her mind. She didn't have time to be hurt. She made it to the sloping pile of rubble, holstered her gun, and started climbing. Nat felt her footing slip, once, and she turned her head to see one of the aliens scrambling up after her. She delivered a hard kick to a large piece of debris, dislodging it and sending it and some other pieces cascading down into the snarling face of the creature. It succumbed to the small avalanche of rock and concrete, giving Natasha the time she needed to get away.

She heaved herself up through an opening and found herself outside.

The sky was darkened by the smoke and amount of ships hovering like ominous clouds overhead. Phaser blasts were going off all over, from both ships and aliens alike. Lightning streaked down from above, coursing through a few ships as it made its way down to Thor. He was holding both Mjolnir and Stormbreaker, channeling lightning into both weapons and sending it out in great blasts through hordes of enemies. Tony was flying around in his Iron Man suit, Rocket was emptying clip after clip of his gun, and Hulk was smashing. Breathless, Natasha turned in circles as her eyes frantically surveyed the battlefield she found herself surrounded by.

_Steve. _She thought. _Where are you?_

Her question was answered when she saw a shield go flying. It ricocheted off several aliens, taking them out, before bouncing back to its owner. Steve grabbed the shield out of the air and strapped it back to his arm. Natasha watched him run, head on, into the fray of attacking aliens. It was absolute chaos.

And she thought Wakanda was bad.


	21. The Fight of Our Lives (Part 2)

The explosion hit Steve like a tidal wave. Like a very, very hot tidal wave. The blast of heat was just as bad as the concussive force that smacked into the building and sent everything, and everyone, flying. Steve was tossed through the air, colliding into and through walls and beams all while getting smacked with various sizes of debris. His tactical gear did little to soften the blow, and when he finally came to a halt on the ground, he felt every bit of what he'd just gone through. He was laying face down on the floor with a pile of drywall and rubble on his back, pressing down and threatening to squeeze the air out of his lungs. He wheezed, coughed, and slowly began to push himself up. His ears rang and his muscles quivered as he used his enhanced strength to push himself out from beneath the weight. It slid off of him like a landslide and settled noisily on the ground behind him. Steve turned his head to spit a thick glob of blood, saliva and soot onto the floor.

When he was upright and had his wits about him, Steve took in the situation. The air around him was thick with smoke and a foreboding darkness that had not been there minutes before. He blinked a few times to clear his vision. The place looked like a war zone. Where once he was surrounded by friends, he was now alone among destruction. Steve was no stranger to what an air strike looked like. It resorted buildings to rubble and people to ash. That thought had panic threatening to bubble up inside his chest. He called for Natasha, first.

"Nat!" Steve coughed, took a few steps away from the ruined compound, and tried again. "Natasha!"

Movement from the corner of his eye caused Steve to turn his head quickly. He saw Tony in his Iron Man suit, hovering above the ground and surveying the damage.

"Tony!" Steve called. "What do you see?!"

"A hell of a mess, Cap." Came Tony's voice. "The building and everything fifty yards below it is blown to hell. We've got multiple heat signatures above us, and it looks like more approaching. Whoever invited themselves to the party brought a lot of friends."

A bolt of lightning struck near a completely destroyed wing of the building, and the explosion broke apart thick chunks of rubble into smaller pieces. Thor emerged, bloody and soot-covered, from those pieces. Lightning crackled in his eyes and around the weapon he held in each hand. Rocket stepped out from behind the god of thunder, who must have protected him during the blast. A little further away, a large piece of debris was thrown carelessly into the sky like a giant Frisbee. Bruce's hulking figure was revealed to be the source of the throw. That accounted for some of the team, but not all. Scott, Rhodey, Nebula; Natasha, they were all still missing.

"Tony, tell me you've got eyes on the others." Steve practically begged.

Tony didn't say anything. His helmeted face was turned toward the sky. "Sorry Cap," he said, "all I've got eyes on is that..." He pointed up.

A fleet of ships had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. They were led by one, huge ship, bigger than any S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarriers Steve had ever seen. He stared up at them, slack-jawed, and wondered just what the hell was going on. Had using the stones created that big of a signature that someone could have found them already? It seemed too soon, and some of those ships looked too familiar. A heavy pit settled like a stone in Steve's gut. And that was before things started falling from the ships.

"Is that...?"

"Thanos's army." Tony said. "Strap up, Cap. We've got a fight coming our way." Then, he zoomed off to meet the enemy head-on.

With dozens, hundreds, of alien creatures hitting the ground running, Steve had no choice but to fight. His chest felt like it would be ripped apart from the anguish over not knowing where Natasha was; over not being able to look for her, but there was nothing he could do. If he didn't fight, there was a chance they could all die. So, he pulled the strap to his shield tightly around his wrist and started forward. As he ran, he saw Bruce soar through the air in one mighty leap. He closed the distance, clearing yards of rubble in seconds, and landed with a thunderous boom in front of the hordes of attacking aliens. He swung his arm and took out six of them, sending them flying off to the right, and then repeated the action with his other arm. More crackling lightning joined the attack. It was pulled down from the sky, into Thor's weapons, and then sent forward into the attacking army. It weaved between the enemy like giant snakes, linking them together in one, huge, shock chain. The smell of burning flesh was all too familiar to Steve, but it still hit his nose like an offensive wall when he finally closed the distance between himself and the aliens. From a short distance away, Rocket was providing cover via gunfire.

"What's going on?" He heard Bruce shout.

"They've gotta be here for the stones!" Tony said from the air. "Where's the glove? Has anyone seen the glove?"

"I'm on it!" Another voice joined the fray. It was Scott, who had somehow shrunk himself down small enough to remain safe from the blast. He had resumed his normal size, now, and was bounding through rubble and creatures in an attempt to get back to the blast site and find the glove. Scott had surfaced, but there was still no sign of Nebula, Rhodey, or Natasha. All Steve could do was hope for the best. Surrounded by a swarm of armed and bloodthirsty aliens, he had time for little else.

Everything was chaos and confusion. Thanos was dead. So, why was his army here, now? _How _were they here? It made no sense. Unfortunately, not making sense didn't make it any less real. Steve was churning through enough feral, alien creatures to know that for sure. And even then, if he had any doubt, he was made painfully aware of the reality of it all when some type of laser blast hit him in the shoulder and practically singed a hole right through him. It pulled a painful growl through tightly clenched teeth and had him staggering back a few steps, but the next one that was sent his way was blocked by his shield. It sent the blast ricocheting back to the shooter. They weren't as lucky as Steve, and took the blast to the head. He leaped over the body as it hit the ground.

Another blast hit him. This time, it cracked his shield. He was turned around from the force, spinning on one heel. It put his back to the enemy. That was never a good place to be. As he tried to reorient himself, Steve felt a strange crackling energy in the air behind him. It was traveling toward him at an alarming speed. It had the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end and his senses firing on all cylinders. Never one to back away from a fight, never one to ever even admit to being the underdog, Steve turned around to face it. He didn't know what made him do it, and he likely never would, but something came over him and had him reaching out a gloved hand. The source of that energy soared right at him and right into his hand. He closed his fingers around it and felt the crackling energy course all around him. The immeasurable weight in his hand was wielded easily, as if it had been there forever. As if it belonged.

It was Mjolnir. Steve Rogers was holding Mjolnir.

"Hah!" He heard Thor bellow from the distance. "I knew it!"

He didn't even have to think about what to do next. Steve just threw himself into action. He churned through enemies with his shield and Thor's hammer. He banged the hammer against his own shield to send out multiple branches of crackling lightning through the aliens. They fell by the dozens. Steve barely took the time to watch them die. He just kept pushing forward. As he continued, a certain numbness fell over him. It was like going into autopilot mode, where the body just took over for the brain. There was no thinking, only fighting. There was only him and the enemy, and one goal: Be the last one standing. He was no stranger to goals like this. Steve's whole life was a compilation of battles and wars. War was where this had all started, and it seemed like it's where it would all end. Unless they got the glove and destroyed the stones before...

"Steve!" Scott shouted. "Steve, it's Nat! She's got the glove. We gotta get it to the van. To the-"

Scott's voice was cut short when a pack of frothing aliens smacked into him. Steve lifted Mjolnir high into the air and pulled a current of lightning into it. Then, threw the hammer with all his might into the horde that had attacked Scott. It shocked through them, sending their bodies toppling back in fits of uncontrolled convulsions. When Scott emerged from the horde, Steve spun around. In a strange mixture of panic and relief, he desperately tried to get eyes on Natasha. He finally found her, pulling herself out of a hole in the ground. She was wet, dirty and bloody, but she was clutching the glove to her chest. Steve watched her look around in wide-eyed horror. He wanted desperately to go to her, to help her; to fight alongside her, but he knew he couldn't. He was pinned down in the middle of a relentless army.

"Tony!" He yelled. "Can you get to Nat? We need to get the glove to the van!"

"Little busy, Cap!" Tony said as he rained missiles and pulse blasts down on his enemies. "But I can probably fit it into my s-"

A beam of light opened up from the mothership overhead. It shot a large figure down in one, great _whoosh. _The figure landed heavily on the ground, causing the earth to tremble enough to kick up another cloud of dust and dirt. Steve knocked three more aliens out of his way to clear a line of sight to the new player on the field. What he saw made him pause.

"No..." He murmured. "That's impossible."

Thanos rose to stand in the distance. He was covered in his thick, gold-plated armor and holding a massive, double-sided blade in his hand that was as big as he was. Behind and all around him, more beams of light opened up from the ships overhead and sent down hundreds, thousands more aliens. In a matter of seconds, his army became a seemingly never-ending sea of bodies. An army... against seven people... and a raccoon. Impossible odds, if the word "impossible" was in your vocabulary. Steve took a deep breath. His shoulder ached, burned and bled. His whole body felt like it'd been knocked around like a ping pong ball. Even with Mjolnir in his hand and the newfound power it brought with it, Captain America was tired. He didn't know how much gas he had left in the tank. He didn't know if he could even get close to Thanos, but he knew he was going to try. Steve lifted a trembling hand and gripped the leather shield strap around his wrist. With one hard tug, he pulled the strap as tight as it would go.

_Alright, old man. _Steve thought. _Let's make this count._

"On your left!"

Steve's eyes went wide at the sudden sound behind him. He felt chills run down his spine, despite the heat that coursed through his veins. He turned his head to the side. To the left. A strange, golden-ringed circle opened up in the air, and out of it flew a man Steve had not seen in years. A man he thought he'd never see again. Sam Wilson's mechanical wings flapped strongly and brought him forward. He landed at Steve's side, a wide smile on his face.

And he wasn't alone.

Bucky stepped out after him. Then T'challa, Okoye, Shuri, Wanda, Peter Parker, and more. Countless more portals opened up behind Steve. Heroes Steve had known for years, and some he'd never seen before in his life, stepped onto the battlefield. There were hundreds of them, from countries and worlds all over, all coming to stand. All coming to fight. The odds had just been evened. Tony landed behind him. Thor arrived beside him, tossing Mjolnir back to Steve. Natasha slowly stepped over piles of rubble and brought herself to Steve's other side. She was breathless, and blood caked her hair and dripped down the side of her face, but when she looked at Steve, she had that same smile on her face he'd seen years ago. Right before she vaulted herself off of his shield, several feet into the air.

"What are you waiting for?" She asked with a smirk. "We don't have all day, Rogers." She was ready. They were all ready.

Steve turned to face forward once more. He was tired, and every breath felt like it burned his lungs, but it was still breath. And as long as he was breathing, Steve would fight. So, he lifted his shield, and he gripped Mjolnir's handle tightly. He planted his feet firmly into the charred earth, and he stared into the face of the enemy.

"Avengers!" He yelled. "Assemble!"

As one, the heroes charged forward. They ran, they flew, they jumped and teleported toward the enemy just as the enemy surged toward them. Two, giant waves crashed against one another. They were thrown into the full throes of battle, and the fight waged on. The heroes battled to get the glove to the Quantum Tunnel and beat back the onslaught of enemies trying to prevent them from accomplishing their goal. They were separated as they fought the hordes, and the glove was passed from hero to hero in an attempt to get it to the Tunnel. Steve saw Peter Parker clutching the glove tightly as a group of aliens began to surround him from all sides.

"Uhh... guys?" Peter's voice crackled through his ear piece. "I think I'm stuck."

"Hey, Queens." Steve said. "Heads up."

Steve threw Mjolnir toward Spider-Man, and as the hammer soared past, Peter shot a line of web that attached himself to it. He was carried away from the horde, until Mjolnir smacked into something and dislodged Peter from it. Steve saw him fall, and for a moment, he was worried. But then he saw him pulled to his feet by Carol Danvers. Carol stood between Peter and the horde. And she wasn't alone. Steve saw a group of powerful woman standing in solidarity against a horde of feral aliens, protecting the glove; protecting Peter. He saw Natasha leading that group, and a swell of pride grew inside of him. She stood among warriors like Okoye, powerhouses like Carol and Wanda Maximoff, and many others Steve had never seen before. She was still fighting. She hadn't given up. Steve wasn't going to, either.

He pulled his attention inward. He raised a hand into the air and pulled Mjolnir back to his grasp. Then, Tony and Thor were beside him. Together they worked their way through the horde, toward the Titan that controlled them. Thanos was waiting behind his immeasurable forces like a coward. He was waiting for his minions to beat his enemies so he didn't have to. Steve still didn't understand what had happened to bring Thanos here, but it didn't matter. They'd killed him before. They could kill him again.

Tony flew forward and cleared a path for Thor and Steve to follow. He hit Thanos with a pulsar blast. The mad Titan blocked it with his sword, but Thor was there to immediately follow it up with a bolt of lighting from his giant ax. As soon as the lighting hit, Steve launched Mjolnir at Thanos, hitting him in his chest plate and knocking him back several feet. Then, he launched himself forward and delivered a blow with his shield to Thanos's face. The huge tyrant released an angered growl and swung his weapon through the air. It hit Steve's shield, shattering a huge chunk from it and rattling Steve to the bone. He was sent flying several feet through the air. He'd barely hit the ground before he saw Thor following suit, flying right toward him. Steve tried to roll out of the way, but the big guy landed right on top of him. It knocked the wind out of him and pinned him to the ground. He worked to push Thor off of him. The god of thunder rolled to the side and onto his stomach, where he stayed for a few seconds. Steve watched as a horde of creatures came scurrying toward them.

"Get up!" He yelled to Thor. "We've gotta get up, Thor!"

He started to push himself up, but the aliens were already on him. They were tearing and clawing and chomping their huge teeth in a desperate attempt to rip him limb from limb. Their combined weight made Thor seem like a sack of pillows. Steve grunted in pain and effort as he struggled to knock the things away with his broken shield. He tried to open up enough space to lift his hand into the air and bring Mjolnir back to him. It worked. Just as a new wave of pain surged up through his leg, the hammer was in his grasp and pulling into it another blast of lightning. It shocked the alien that had sunk its teeth into his leg, along with all of the other ones that had crawled on top of him. Steve was able to sit up and hurl the hammer at the horde that had crawled on top of Thor. It knocked them away, and Steve stood up and offered a hand down to his friend. Thor grabbed it and pulled himself to his feet. He stared over Steve's shoulder, his eyes going wide in fear and disbelief.

Steve turned around. In the distance, he saw Thanos towering over Tony. Iron Man had fallen, his back resting against a large chunk of concrete behind him. Thanos was holding an arm up in the air, his hand poised in a way that was all too familiar to Steve. He felt his heart drop into his stomach.

_No..._ he thought. This couldn't be right. They'd just gotten everyone back. They couldn't lose them again. This couldn't be how it ended.

Thanos snapped his fingers.

Steve looked around him. He felt fear like he'd never known before. Not the fear of disappearing, himself, but the fear of watching everyone he knew disappear right before his very eyes... again. His blue eyes sought out Sam, Bucky; Natasha. But, as the dust started to break apart and float into the air, Steve noticed it wasn't the bodies of his friends and allies that were disappearing. It was the bodies of the enemy. Countless aliens began to turn to dust all around him. Not just half, but every single one of them. Steve faced forward again and watched as Thanos succumbed to the same fate he subjected billions of people to and would subject them to again. His body began to disintegrate, turning to ash before his own eyes. Then, he disappeared, and Steve saw through to the other side of him. He saw the reason why.

Tony was wearing the glove.

He had snapped his fingers, subjecting himself to the overwhelming surge of power and using it to erase Thanos and every single one of his followers. Steve's face and heart fell. He dropped his shield, his hammer, and pulled his mask off of his dirt and blood-smeared face. His feet felt like they were weighed down by concrete as he, slowly, took steps forward. Pepper, Peter, and Rhodey were with Tony. The kid was on his knees in front of him, desperately trying to help him to his feet. But Tony wasn't going anywhere, and they all knew it.

A profound, heavy silence fell over the battlefield. Steve watched with tears in his eyes as Rhodey pulled Peter back. He held the crying boy in one arm as Pepper slowly lowered herself to kneel in front of her husband. She placed a hand on his chest and murmured something to him. She pressed a kiss to his cheek as the life slipped away from Tony Stark's eyes. Steve squeezed his own eyes shut and bowed his head. Warm, heavy tears slipped from between his eyelashes, streaked down his dirt-covered face and landed like raindrops on the ground.

The earth had just lost its best defender.

Tony Stark was dead.


	22. Such Sweet Sorrow

One week passed. Seven days. It seemed like forever and yet just a moment. By now, the world had heard of the heroes who had saved them. They wanted to pay their respects, but it hardly seemed possible to invite them all to the funerals, memorials, and sigils that were held for those who were lost. Besides, the world was plenty occupied with trying to piece itself back together again. Being gone for five years and suddenly returning to a world that had kept spinning without you was a lot to take in. Still, they paid tribute in their own way. Photos and videos of those tributes went viral. There were paintings and signs put up on buildings and street corners all over the world. There were totems of candles and flowers, signs and stuffed animals, put up in honor of the fallen heroes. It would never be enough, but it was a good reminder of what those heroes were fighting for. It was bittersweet, to know that their sacrifices had not been in vain.

There was a joint service at Tony's cabin for both Tony and Clint. It seemed wrong, to not honor Clint, now that his family was back. Of course, it was just as painful as the first service they'd held for him. Natasha's pain was only intensified by seeing the pain of Clint's wife and children. She still struggled with the fact that it had been Clint, and not herself, that went over that cliff in Vormir. She still thought that things were supposed to be the other way. She still struggled, and yet... the tiny flutter in her stomach reminded her. She was here for a reason. Maybe Clint had hoped for that reason when he made the sacrifice that he made. Natasha would never know.

She hadn't told anyone, not even Steve, about her reinstated pregnancy. It seemed disrespectful, while they were all still mourning, to bring it up. She told herself that she would hold onto it for a little while longer, make sure that it seemed things were going okay, and then she would tell him. In the meantime, she'd devoted all her attention to making sure Laura and the kids were okay, as well as doing whatever she could to help with preparations for the funeral. It helped, in a way, to stay busy. To devote her energy toward something productive, something good, rather than the seemingly endless onslaught of tears that had come at the beginning.

Tony's death had quieted an entire battlefield. Hundreds of heroes had lowered their guns and swords and watched, heartbroken, as Tony's body was lifted from the ground. It had been Steve who stepped forward to do the duty. No one had protested. Steve had been the first one to rush to Tony when he stepped off that spaceship all those years ago, after all. They'd all watched, silent, as Captain America knelt down and scooped Tony into his arms. His weight must have been minimal to Steve's enhanced strength, yet Natasha had been able to see the impossible burden that settled upon those broad shoulders. She'd watched the tears fall from his blue eyes and leave streaks down his dirt-covered cheeks as he carried Tony away from the wreckage and ruin.

The days following that had been some of the quietest days Natasha had ever seen. There were no words to describe what happened that day. There was no way to properly describe the full scope of the battle that had waged, and the sacrifices that had been made. They'd accomplished their goal. Not only had they brought everyone back, but they'd gotten rid of Thanos and his army, for good, in the process. Yet... at what cost had it come? Pepper lost her husband. Peter lost his mentor. Morgan lost her father. And so, so many people had lost their friend. Because that's what Tony had been to so many. He'd been their leader, but he'd also been their friend. Natasha and Steve both mourned him over those seven days.

Some of those tears were back now. Natasha stood beside Steve, hand gripped tightly in his, on the gently sloping hillside that led from the cabin down to the lake. They had made a small float, outfitted with flowers and the first reactor that Tony had ever worn. The words inscribed on the reactor's casing would never be forgotten:

Proof That Tony Stark Has A Heart.

It seemed like a lifetime ago, two lifetimes, really. It had been the thing that kept Tony alive for months. Now, Pepper was standing on the dock and gently settling it into the water. The wind floated it out into the lake, while everyone watched in silent respect.

Natasha dared a look around. Morgan was held securely in Happy's arms, silent and sad. She was wise for a girl her age. She didn't ask questions, and she didn't cry. She knew that her father was gone, but she held onto the strong reserve that he had passed down to her. Morgan squeezed her arms a little tighter around Happy's shoulders, and Natasha noticed that it was the grown man who was shedding tears, and the young girl who was comforting him. Natasha moved her own, teary gaze, onward. Peter Parker stood near Thor and Bruce. His jaw was clenched tightly as tears slipped from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. He'd just been reunited with the man who had been like a father to him, only to watch that man slip away before his very eyes. Natasha thought of her own relationship with Fury, the times she thought she'd lost him, and she very clearly understood Peter's pain. Only, Fury was with them, now. Tony wasn't.

There were heroes all around them, hailing from Wakanda to outer space and everywhere in between, all there to pay their respects. Many of them had said a few words about Tony. Some even spoke of Clint. Wanda Maximoff expressed her gratitude for Clint and the things he had done, not only for her, but for her late brother, Pietro. An endless line of people approached Pepper, Morgan and Happy; Laura and the kids, to offer their heartfelt condolences. Now, there was nothing left to do but stand and watch and reflect. Later, they would share memories and laughs and tears, but for now there was only silent solidarity. Natasha took in a deep, shaky breath and felt Steve squeeze her hand a little tighter.

She turned her head towards him, and saw his slanting brows and sad eyes. It made her chest tighten. She knew how hard this was for him. Steve was a good man. Losing people affected him greatly. His whole life was dedicated to keeping people safe. But you couldn't save everybody. That was a lesson they both learned the hard way.

Eventually, people started to peel away. They dispersed to linger elsewhere or to say their goodbyes before heading out. Before long, it was just Natasha, Steve, Bruce and Thor standing on that hill, staring at that lake. While it was peaceful, it also felt wrong. It felt incomplete, without Clint and Tony. They had left behind these voids that could never be filled, so the rest of them would be left to walk around with these irreparable holes in their hearts for the rest of their lives. Yet, their deaths had not been selfish. Nor had they been in vain. Clint Barton and Tony Stark saved the world.

"I couldn't have been more wrong about him," Steve said quietly. It pulled the others' attention toward him. "I thought he was selfish. Stark. I even told him as much. I can't tell you how many times. But he wasn't. He was the best of us. I just... I wish I would've had the chance to tell him that."

"He knew." Natasha said gently.

Words fell to the wayside once more. The four of them watched the sunset over the lake in silence.

...

Multiple days passed. With headquarters and all of its equipment destroyed in the blast, the group was forced to use Tony's "lab"- which was little more than a large shed beside the cabin outfitted with all of his gadgets and gizmos- to reconstruct the time travel device that they had used to get the stones. Now that the mission was accomplished, they needed to return the stones to their original timelines in order to prevent them from being used again. Bruce worked tirelessly to get another device operational. Some of the others stayed, taking Pepper up on her hospitality in order to remain close while the work was being done. Others left and returned every so often to check in and see what could be done to help.

There were many volunteers to return the stones. Scott, being the most well-versed in the time jumps, had been the first to offer. But he'd just been reunited with his daughter and Hope, and it seemed wrong to take that away from him. Bruce wouldn't exactly blend in with the various times and places he was set to go, nor would Thor. And Natasha... well, she had her own reasons. Which, of course, left Steve. Steve, who thought that he owed it to Tony and Clint and everyone else to make sure things were tied up and set right. A selfish part of Natasha wanted to tell him not to, but the better part of her knew she couldn't deny him that right.

So, when the day came when the portal was finally operational, and Steve was suited up and ready to go, Natasha stood with him beside the device. It was wheeled out of the shed and set in the grass near the lake to avoid any unwarranted property damage. Bruce was at the mobile control station, keying in inputs and commands. Natasha, in her sharp mind, knew each of the places and times that Steve would be going to. She knew the things that he'd left behind in his past; the things he had been robbed of experiencing. She knew those things still haunted him from time to time; that he still yearned for them on some level. He'd told her as much, in a way, when he confessed to wanting to be with Peggy, if only to speak with her, when he saw her at the military base in New Jersey. As a result, standing here with him now created a painful tightness in her chest. The pain of saying goodbye.

"Steve..." she told him quietly, "I want you to know that, when you go back... whatever you decide, whatever you do, it's... it's okay." She gave him a small smile, though it did little to mask the sadness in her eyes. "I just want you to be happy. That's... all I've ever wanted."

He'd done so much for everyone else over these long, long years. He deserved something for himself.

Steve furrowed his brows, looking at Natasha with a mix of understanding and reluctance. Even though they'd brought everyone back, the world felt a whole lot more empty. And even though he was sure there was still so much work left to be done, Steve thought it might be nice to not have to be the one working for a change. Yet, it had never been in his nature to take the easy way out. It still wasn't. The task he was about to set out to do would be a difficult one. It was going to feel like lifetimes, while, to everyone here, it would seem like minutes.

His gaze lifted away from Natasha for a moment. Past her, he could see Sam and Bucky standing next to each other. They were watching Steve, Sam with his arms folded across his chest, and Bucky with a reserved smile and nod. He'd fought hard to bring them back. Everyone had. Now, they were here to see him off, and Steve didn't know when he would get to see them again.

"Good to go!" Bruce announced from behind them. The machine whirred to life.

Steve returned his blue eyes to Natasha. She looked up at him, and it seemed there was something bubbling beneath the surface. Unexpressed emotions; unspoken words churning behind those forest green eyes of hers. But she didn't give light to any of them. Instead, she offered a shaky smile and wrapped her fingers around Steve's wrist. She pulled him a little closer, rolled up onto her tip-toes, and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"Be careful, soldier." She whispered. Then, she settled back down onto her feet and released him. "That's an order."

"Yes, ma'm." He smiled and headed for the platform.

Natasha turned and headed for the lake. She couldn't watch him leave. She didn't think she had the reserve not to yell out to him at the last second and beg him not to go. She knew that if she told him, he would stay. So, she walked down toward the water's edge, where Wanda was standing and looking off into the distance. Natasha tried to ignore the sounds of the tunnel activating, whirring to life, and sucking Steve into it. She tried to ignore the pain and regret it caused to take up residency inside her heart. She came to a stop beside Wanda and crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself.

"You did not tell him?" Wanda asked softly. Natasha hadn't told her about the baby. She didn't need to. The Scarlet Witch had sensed the change in Natasha the first moment they were alone, but she had, of course, promised to keep the secret.

"I couldn't." Natasha said, her words slightly choked from the tightness in her throat. She swallowed once and looked at Wanda. "I didn't want to..." She interrupted her own sentence with a heavy sigh. She shook her head and started again. "Steve is a dutiful man. I didn't want him to stay because he felt it was his responsibility."

"You wanted him to stay because it was his choice." Wanda surmised. Natasha nodded. "Well," Wanda continued, eyes going back out to the lake, "I think he will return for the right reasons. And if not..." she glanced down toward Natasha's stomach. "The little _detka _will have no shortage of people who love her."

"Or him." Natasha smiled.

"I am thinking positively." Wanda smiled, too.

Then, they just looked out at the lake, silent but enjoying each other's company. There was a soft breeze that blew across the water and created gentle ripples across the surface. The sun gave the illusion of a thousand diamonds scattered across the water and sparkling brightly in the light. It was a beautiful day, a peaceful day, but Natasha couldn't help but to feel turmoil in her heart. She wondered if she'd made the right decision. She doubted herself, as she was known to do. While Natasha played cool and collected and sure of herself in everything, there was so much that she was unsure about. She still didn't know how to navigate relationships and love, and... God. How the hell was she going to handle being a mother?

"...and retrieval in five, four, three..." Bruce's voice boomed behind them.

Natasha turned around to see an empty platform. Steve wasn't there. She watched, her heart sinking into her stomach, as Bruce made a few, confused passes at the control system. He was thinking he made a mistake. Natasha was thinking that he hadn't. She frowned and felt tears begin to sting her eyes. From behind her, Wanda placed a gentle hand on top of her shoulder.

"Natasha..." she began.

"It's okay." Natasha said. "I just... need a moment."

She could feel their eyes, all their eyes, on her as she walked away from the lake. She could feel them watching and pitying as she walked back up the hill, past the platform, and toward the house. Natasha hated their pity. She hated what she knew they were thinking. Natasha Romanoff, playing second fiddle, always second place in Steve's 'd gone against her own code and let someone get close. This is what was always going to happen. _But you did this to yourself. _She reminded herself. _You told him to go. _She told him to be happy. That part wasn't a lie. She just wished that happiness with her would've been enough for him.

She thought that she should leave. Maybe she should just get in a car and drive. Her job here was done. But if she did that, they might think she was running away, and Natasha didn't run away. She wouldn't do that, now. She just needed some time to... figure it all out. Natasha took a deep breath and kept her chin held high. She walked around the side of the cabin and leaned against the wall. It was quiet; she was alone. She didn't cry. She wouldn't. She'd done too much of that already. And it wasn't like she'd _lost _Steve. Not in the way she'd lost Clint and Tony. He was still out there, somewhere. She had to believe that. He was out there. He was finally happy, _truly _happy, and-

Footsteps were approaching. Heavy footsteps. Booted feet.

"I leave you alone for _five _minutes..."

Natasha took in a sharp breath and pushed herself away from the wall. Steve walked around the corner of the cabin, came a stop, and fixed her with an amused grin. He was holding his shield, whole and intact, though he'd left empty-handed.

"I knew you were an impatient woman, Romanoff, but this... this is a whole other level."

Natasha felt her chin begin to quiver. Tears stung her eyes as her brows pinched together and her heart tightened painfully in her chest. She swallowed the lump in her throat and inclined her chin towards Steve.

"What took you so long?" She asked, her voice tight.

Steve's amusement fell into a more serious expression. "There was a certain, red-faced individual who needed a stern talking to. And I needed to grab a souvenir." He said, lifting the shield a bit. He walked toward her, and as he approached, he saw the tears in her eyes. His expression fell even more.

"Nat... what's wrong?"

Natasha took quick steps towards him and flung her arms around Steve's broad shoulders. She buried her face into the side of his neck and let out a heavy, relieved sigh. His arms lifted to wrap around her waist, hands pressing firmly into her back and securing her against him. Steve turned his head and pressed his lips into Natasha's red hair.

"It's okay," he assured her quietly. He held her for a few more seconds before gently peeling himself away, just enough to be able to look down at her. Concern was still etched in his handsome features. He tilted his head to the side a bit, blue eyes observing her carefully.

"Nat?"

She looked up at him and took another deep, shaky breath. There was another flutter in her stomach. "Let's go inside," she said. "We need to talk."


	23. Forever

Steve was led inside the cabin. It was quiet; peaceful. He could see why Tony had chosen to stay here for so long; to just live as many perfect days with his family as possible. Natasha took Steve to the front room, a sitting room that looked out onto the front porch and beyond. There were leather chairs, a couch, throw blankets, photos; all the mementos that made up a happy home. The lace curtains that hung in front of the open windows swayed slowly in the gentle breeze coming in from outside.

Despite all that peacefulness, however, Steve couldn't help but to feel nervous inside. No good conversation ever started with the words, "we need to talk". He was afraid of what Natasha might have to say, but for the life of him, he had no idea what it could be. His mind went back to the conversation they'd had before he left. She said she wanted him to be happy. Did she not think he had that with her?

Natasha sat down on the couch, offering plenty of room for Steve to do the same. He lowered his shield to the ground, first, leaning it against the coffee table. Then, he lowered himself onto the couch. He was still in his gear, though he did at least remove the helmet. Whatever this conversation was about, Steve figured it was going to be serious. And he didn't think Natasha had ever taken him seriously with that thing on his head. He angled his body toward her, instinctively reaching out to take one of her hands. She pulled it toward her and rested it in her lap, one hand underneath his; the other resting on top. Steve watched her look down at their joined hands for a few moments. He watched her worry her lower lip between her teeth. He wanted to lean forward and kiss her, if only to get her to stop biting her lip, but something told him that this wasn't quite the time for that.

"Hey..." he said, his voice gently coaxing her to look up at him. "Talk to me. What's going-"

"Steve, it worked." Natasha suddenly blurted out.

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "What worked?"

"Tony. The glove. The stones. It brought everyone back."

Now he was even more confused. He squeezed her hand a little tighter and offered a small smile. "Nat, I know..."

"_Everyone._" She emphasized. Then, she pulled his hand forward a little more, just enough to press it against her stomach.

Steve's eyes had been following the path of their hands. He stared at the new placement of his hand for a moment. Then, his blue eyes grew wide. He opened his mouth and took in a sharp breath of air, lifting his gaze to match hers. The light seemed to shimmer in her green eyes, reflecting off the tears that were forming in them. She tried to keep her face a neutral mask, but Steve could see a million emotions warring with each other behind her eyes. Fear, sadness; hope. This was uncharted territory, he knew. Natasha had told her, himself, that she only _acted _like she knew everything. This was... this was definitely not something either of them had any experience with. But God had they wanted it. So much that they'd gone all the way to Wakanda for Shuri to work medical miracles to make it even remotely possible. Their love, and ..."perseverance", had done the rest.

"Natasha..." His own eyes began to sting a bit. He blinked rapidly to clear away the wetness trying to form there. Steve scooted a little closer to her. "You're...?"

Natasha nodded a few times. Strands of red hair fell in front of her ears, framing her face. She sniffled once and tried to put on a smile, but the second her lips began to move, the tears started to slip out of her eyes. They were slow and quiet; heavy and warm. In the blink of an eye, Steve had her wrapped in his arms. He felt warm all over as he embraced her tightly, face buried into that red, red hair. Emotion coursed through him like a heavy current. Awe and excitement had him buzzing, but happiness and relief kept him grounded. He laughed, once, into her hair before pulling back to look at her.

Steve pushed Natasha's hair out of her face. He gently brushed the tears off of her cheeks with his knuckles. "Nat, this is..." he huffed and shook his head, unable to form the words. "This is great!"

At least, _he _thought it was. But Steve realized that Natasha didn't seem to be matching his excitement. It didn't seem that her tears were happy ones. It seemed like there was something else going on. Some sort of roadblock keeping her from fully enjoying this moment that, in Steve's opinion, was the happiest moment of his entire life. That confused him. It _worried _him. And then it made his mind go back to when he left. His mood dropped a bit. Steve furrowed his brow as a look of hurt and confusion fell over his handsome features.

"Why... why didn't you tell me?" He asked quietly.

Natasha knew that question was coming. She'd been preparing herself for it, but it still seemed to hit her like a slug to the chest. She took in a deep breath and tried to regain some of her composure. After a few moments, she managed to lift her gaze to meet his. The hurt in his eyes nearly killed her. Would he understand her reasoning? Would he forgive her for it? It seemed like a big ask, and Natasha wasn't entirely sure she even _deserved _forgiveness.

"I didn't..." she began, but paused to take another breath. Then, she started over. Her voice was a bit firmer this time around. "If you stayed, I wanted it to be for the right reasons."

Steve took a second to take that in. He narrowed his gaze a bit as the information fully settled onto him. Then, he finally released a small huff of laughter. "Right reasons?!" He said. "Nat, I can't think of a _righter _reason than that."

"No," she shook her head. "I just mean... Steve, you are a loyal and responsible man. To a fault, sometimes. If you knew about this, you would've stayed because it was the right thing to do, even if it wasn't what you wanted."

She took another deep breath. Her lips pulled down into a slight frown. She realized that what she was saying sounded ridiculous. It sounded childish and naive, and she felt like an idiot for all of it. She knew this was something he wanted at one point in time, but that was over five years ago. Before they'd lost it. A lot had happened since then, and after his revelation after having seen Peggy again, Natasha wasn't sure that Steve wanted the same things anymore. Now that he was back, and happier than she'd ever seen him, she knew she was wrong.

"I'm sorry." She whispered. "I wanted you to be able to choose your own happiness for once. Rather than be... _forced _into it."

"Nat," Steve sighed. He looped a finger beneath her chin and lifted her, coaxing her gaze to meet his. "When you came to me after Peggy's funeral, you said something to me. You said, 'Staying together is more important than _how_ we stay together'. It's the choice that matters. You _chose _to help Bucky and I in Germany. You chose to stay with me after all that, despite all the hell it put you through. Everything, from that moment on, has always been choice, Natasha. We chose each other. I chose you, and I will _keep _choosing you."

"I'm not going anywhere." He smiled and pushed another strand of hair out of her face. "No matter how hard you try to get rid of me."

Steve pulled his hand away from Natasha's. He reached into one of the pockets of his pants and retrieved a small, wooden box. It was old and weathered; chipping here and there. It creaked a little when he opened it. Inside, there was a thin, gold ring with a single diamond nestled into it.

"This was my mother's," Steve said. "I'd left it at home. Never had a chance to go back and get it before I went into the ice."

Steve had made a special trip this time, though. Even without knowing what he knew now, he had gone through that time portal with every intention of coming back with this ring. Seeing the ring, Natasha now knew that. She knew how wrong she had been to assume that he was never coming back. She felt guilty and stupid beyond belief for that, now.

"Natalia Alianovna Romanoff," Steve said, "will you marry me?"

Natasha said nothing. Her big, green eyes flickered between Steve and the ring and back again. A lifetime of not feeling good enough, of deeming herself unworthy of anything good and true in this world, came crashing down around her. Being told she had no place in this world, being a child molded into a weapon instead of a person shattered like glass against the wall. Because the best man that Natasha had ever known was asking _her _to spend the rest of her life with him. Not because he had to, but because he _chose _to. She _was _worthy of that, and she _did _have a place. Beside Steve. It'd always been beside Steve.

The silence had alarmed Steve, at first. He felt his heart drop into his stomach as he struggled to read Natasha's expression. Her face seemed to go blank. He saw fear and uncertainty pass behind her eyes as she looked down at the ring. But then she looked up at him, and he saw a kind of love that he never thought he'd see again. It was warmer than the sunlight filtering through the window. It melted away Steve's fear, and he smiled softly at her.

"Starting to get a little nervous over here, Romanoff." He said quietly.

Natasha blinked a few times and inhaled sharply, as if she were waking up. "Yes!" She remembered to say.

She'd barely finished speaking the word before Steve was leaning forward and pressing his lips against hers. He wrapped his free hand around the back of her neck and held her close while she placed both her hands on the sides of his face. Steve felt his heart and soul pour out of himself and into Natasha, and hers pour into him. He kissed her until his lungs burned, and only then did he pull away. The box was still in his hand; the ring still in the box, so he gently plucked it out with nervous fingers. Natasha held out her hand, and Steve slid the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit.

"Shit!" A tiny voice said from the doorway.

"Morgan!" Pepper exclaimed. She rushed in behind her daughter and scooped her up into her arms. Realizing that they had clearly interrupted something, she began to apologize profusely. "I am _so _sorry!" She told Steve and Natasha. Then, she looked at Morgan. "Morgan, honey, we don't say that word."

"But Daddy said it when he made that time thingy," Morgan said in her soft, child's voice. "I thought it was for when something good happened, and Auntie Nat and Cap are gonna get married!"

Pepper's shocked gaze went to the two of them. Steve slowly rose from the couch, Natasha following suit. He watched Natasha nod to confirm what Morgan had said. A smile played on her full lips. Pepper released an excited laugh and immediately walked over to them. She let Morgan down so she could hug them both and offer her sincere congratulations, along with her sincere apologies for her potty-mouth child interrupting their moment. Steve certainly didn't mind, though, and from the looks of it, neither did Natasha.

"Come here, squirt." Nat said, scooping Morgan up into her arms. "I'm glad you're here," she told her.

"You are?" The girl asked, twirling a strand of her brown hair around her finger.

"Of course!" Natasha smiled. "I'm going to need a flower girl, and only the best will do."

Steve watched, a smile on his face, as Natasha held Morgan, and Pepper began talking excitedly about how perfect the wedding was going to be. She was going to help however she could, however they would let her. There was a lot to be done, but first there was something that Steve needed to do. He placed a hand on the small of Natasha's back to get her attention.

"I'll be right back," he told her. "There's one more thing I have to do." He pressed a kiss to her temple, ruffled Morgan's hair, and turned away. Steve picked up his shield and headed outside.

He found Sam and Bucky out front, talking or debating or arguing, or whatever it was they did on such a frequent basis. When they saw him, however, they stopped to turn and greet him. Sam smiled and opened his arms wide.

"Cap!" He said, giving Steve a few slaps on the back. "Good to have you back, man."

Bucky, hands in his pockets and a small smile on his face, gave a nod to confirm that statement. Steve hadn't really said anything to them upon his return. He'd stepped off the platform to find that Natasha wasn't there, and that had worried him. Now, though, he greeted them both happily. Even more happily than he might have previously. After the greetings passed, however, Steve got down to business. He looked at Sam.

"I've got something for you." He said. He slowly handed the shield over to Sam. It was heavier than Steve remembered it being in all his years of carrying it. It felt like a weight he no longer needed to shoulder. A weight that no longer belonged to him. When Sam had it in his hands, a confused look on his face, Steve gave a nod.

"Go on," he said, "try it on."

Confused, Sam slid his arm into the wrist strap and tightened it. He gave the shield a lift and a few practice swipes.

"How's it feel?" Steve asked.

"Like it belongs to someone else," Sam commented.

"Well, I think it's a perfect fit." Steve said.

He'd been thinking about this moment for awhile. Long before Thanos and time traveling and bouncing all over the universe, Steve had considered this. It was back in Wakanda, when he and Natasha had gone to Shuri in the hopes of finding some way to reverse what had been done to Nat in the Red Room. Steve told himself that, even if it didn't work, he'd be ready. Ready to hang this all up, pass the mantle on, and settle into a good, peaceful life with Natasha. Granted, he didn't know how much "peace" they'd actually get, but he knew it would be good, no matter what. And he knew he wanted to try.

Steve had thought about Bucky and Sam. Both good warriors; both great men. He knew that, if anyone could wear the shield, it would be one of them. But Bucky had spent a lifetime as someone else's weapon. He'd spent years only knowing darkness and blood. With the help of T'Challa and Shuri, he'd finally gotten his life back. He was working on finding himself and finding peace for the things he'd done when he was under the control of others. It seemed wrong to throw him back into the fighting after all that.

But Sam... Sam had been with Steve and Natasha all those years after the Sokovia Accords. He'd fought the good fight, and proven himself to be a strong, honorable man. He was smart, loyal, responsible, but most of all he was good. Steve knew, without a doubt, that if anyone could carry on the mantle of Captain America, it was Sam Wilson. Steve smiled, and looked over to Bucky.

"Don't look so relieved," he told his friend. He stood beside him and looped an arm around Bucky's shoulders. "You're not off the hook. I've got an even tougher job for you..."

...

They planned the wedding in two months. It was a whirlwind, but it was under Natasha's behest that she didn't want to be a balloon in a wedding gown, even though Steve knew that she could have worn a trash bag and still have been the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. It seemed only fitting to have it at Stark's cabin by the lake, so it would not only be a place for endings, but also a place for beginnings. A place to remember the past and celebrate the future.

Pepper had been monumental in putting things together. The place looked beautiful. Two rows of flowers and small, white lanterns marked the aisle that led from the cabin down to the lakeside. Steve stood beneath an arching trellis, covered with green-leafed vines and vibrant tiger lilies that seemed to melt into the sunset. Behind him, on the lake, floated countless lotus flowers, each outfitted with a tiny candle that made the lake look like it was filled with flickering stars. A string quartet played soft music off to the side. All of their closest friends, their family, were seated in white chairs with excitement on their faces. They'd come from Wakanda and space and everywhere in between to be here. They had fought beside Steve and Natasha, so it only made sense to have them here, now.

Steve adjusted his tie for what felt like the hundredth time. Beside him, he heard Bucky chuckle.

"Can't get hitched if you choke yourself before the vows, bud." Bucky said.

Steve shot him a look. "I didn't know being best man came with so many jokes."

Behind Bucky, Sam stood with a barely-contained smile on his face. The two of them together were a more troublesome duo than dynamite and a blow torch, but Steve was happy to have them. On the other side of the aisle, Pepper and Wanda stood in pale pink dresses, holding small bouquets at their waists. They both gave Steve reassuring smiles. It was nice to have, especially in the face of all the teasing he'd gotten from Bucky and Sam. Steve didn't think he'd been this nervous in his whole life. Naturally, Bucky and Sam saw that as an opportunity that they couldn't pass up. There had been a lot of ribbing throughout the day, but when all was said and done, they'd gotten Steve to the altar and were standing at his side in full support.

A few, quiet "awwws" pulled his attention forward. Morgan, in a little white dress, her chocolate hair worn in long curls, came walking down the aisle. She had a wicker basket, inside of which were flower petals that she sprinkled liberally down the aisle. She had a smile on her face the whole time. Very charismatic, just like her father. She certainly didn't seem to be afraid of the spotlight. She came to a stop in front of Steve, took the biggest handful of flowers that she could, and threw them up into the air. Then, giggling, she scurried off to join Pepper.

The music changed.

Steve took the deepest breath he'd taken all day and looked up at the cabin. The doors opened, and Natasha stepped outside, escorted by none other than Fury, himself. She looked ethereal, in a white gown with thin straps, a lace bodice, and a flowing bottom sprinkled with sequins that glittered in the light of the setting sun. A long veil was pinned to her red hair with glittering silver leaves and flowed down the back of her dress. Around her neck was the thin, silver arrow necklace that Steve had never once seen her without. The little swell of her stomach reminded him of the unseen wedding guest nestled safely in her tummy.

He felt himself go weak in the knees. The smile that spread across his face felt like it was a mile long. The aisle did, too. Steve felt like each, slow step that Natasha took toward him lasted a lifetime. Yet, before he knew it, she was standing there in front of him, glowing like a thousand stars and smiling just as brightly. Any words he might have had were caught in his throat and just stayed there with no intention of coming out.

"It's impolite to stare, Steve." Natasha said in a low tone. She perked a brow at him, her lips pulling into a half smirk.

Behind them, their over-sized officiant cleared his throat. Bruce had gotten himself specially ordained for the occasion, which had proven to be easier than finding a suit to fit him.

"Shall we get this show on the road?" He asked.

"Don't hold things up on my account." Fury said. He looked to Steve. "Now, I _know _this is typically the part where I'm supposed to say something like 'If you hurt her, I'll kill you', but... I think she can handle that part all herself. So... Good luck, Captain. You've got your work cut out for you with this one."

Fury laughed at his own joke. He hugged Natasha tightly, and then shook Steve's hand. "Don't say I never did anything for ya." He said. Then, he went and took a seat next to Agent Hill.

Steve and Natasha joined hands, facing each other. "You, look..." Steve began, but shook his head, at a loss for words once more.

"You don't look so bad yourself," she replied with a half grin.

Bruce started the ceremony. He picked a few, nice verses and sprinkled in some lovely quotes that reminded them both of everything they'd gone through to get to this moment and made them appreciate it all the more. Vows and rings were exchanged. Steve and Natasha never took their eyes off each other. Green and blue stayed locked together like trees meeting the skyline. They made their promises of forever, and when it came time for "I do", Steve stepped closer to Natasha. He felt her thumb running across the metal band on his finger, and already it felt like a familiar comfort to him. He looked down into her endless eyes and saw home.

"...for as long as you both shall live?" Bruce asked.

"I do." They said, together.

Steve wrapped her in his arms and sealed the deal with a kiss.

The audience erupted into cheers. They stood up from their seats, clapping, yelling, blowing bubbles, waving sparklers, or, in the case of Stephen Strange, summoning flocks of white doves to send flying through the air. It was a sea of sound and light and color. Natasha and Steve turned to face them, hand in hand.

"How are we supposed to get through all that?" Natasha mused.

Steve looked at her and smiled. "Together," he said.


End file.
